


after everything else is gone

by PrincessSmuttButt



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Cheating, F/F, Genderbending, Lesbians, Photographer!Rin, Romance, Sex, Tragedy, Why Did I Write This?, Yikes, artist!haru, makoharu - Freeform, reigisa - Freeform, rinharu - Freeform, sourin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 82,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessSmuttButt/pseuds/PrincessSmuttButt
Summary: Haruka Nanase and Rin Matsuoka, two juniors at an elite all-women's college, are both brilliant artists. They are also both in committed, loving relationships--Rin with her best-friend-turned-lover, Sousuke Yamazaki, and Haruka with her long-term girlfriend, Makoto Tachibana. But their happiness, while having the appearance of perfection, seems insincere and incomplete for reasons neither of them can explain. When, due to a registrar error, Rin and Haruka meet, they see something in each other that draws them together like magnets. Before they can control their impulses, they plummet into a sinful affair, a secret to both Makoto and Sousuke. Suddenly all four women are thrown into a tornado of heartbreak, dangerous secrets, and struggling to navigate the most basic definitions of love.





	1. do you think we're evil?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on my story! 
> 
> It's complete, with 33 chapters, to be updated every few days. 
> 
> ***TW****  
> cheating  
> anxiety  
> explicit sex  
> emotional abuse  
> drugs  
> alcohol  
> ******************
> 
> This is the child conceived from my constant struggle about whether I like RinHaru or MakoHaru more. Also the child conceived from my desire for them all to be women because I am extremely gay. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> xoxo

 

1

do you think we’re evil?

They sat, silent, on the grassy slope of the hill facing the lake. Passing a half-smoked cigarette between them. Deep and slow, they took their time with it. Because why not? They didn’t have anywhere to be. Weren’t going to be seeing anyone but each other for at least another 12 hours, and they didn’t care if the other smelled like tobacco. Almost preferred it. It was a little past midnight and though the sky was dark, they couldn’t see any stars. It was odd. Usually the stars were like lighthouse beacons, but tonight, they were quiet. The lake looked like a black hole. They could see a few other girls down at the shore, what seemed like miles and miles away, fooling around. With drugs, with each other. One girl, despite the cold, stripped out of her white sweater and black leggings and plunged into the murky waters—she was only there for a second before her friends dragged her out. It was pretty much winter. Snow in the forecast next week.

“Sometimes I wish I were that crazy,” one of the girls on the hill said. The one with the short, messy red hair. She always tried pulling it back from her face, but a little bit always managed to slip by and mat to her forehead.

“Crazy enough to jump into a freezing lake?” the other replied. The one with the long, silken black hair. Almost blue. Her bangs were purposeful, and her eyes like bleeding sapphires.

“Yeah. It’s brave, you know? Probably translates to other parts of life.”

“I wouldn’t describe you as a coward, though.”

“No. But I’m not a hero.”

“What’s the definition of a hero, then?”

“Someone brave enough to do something painful.”

The one with the long black hair, the one named Haruka Nanase, took the cigarette between her thumb and her index finger. She stared at it. The one with the short red hair, the one named Rin Matsuoka, lay on her back and stared instead at the sky.

“Then neither of us is a hero,” Haruka concluded. She took a long drag, so long, so deep, that she started coughing and finished the cigarette off. She crushed it on the soil. “Is the grass cold on your back?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s because your jacket’s thin.”

Rin was practically shivering. She closed her eyes, smiling.

“Wanted to look cute for you,” she said in defense of her too-thin jacket.

Haruka, perhaps in space of a smile, perhaps because she just felt the urge, reached out and ran her yellow nicotine-stained fingers through Rin’s hair. Spread out there on the grass, like an offering to the gods. She was breathtaking and divine against the dark dullness of the earth.

“Haru,” Rin began.

“Yeah?”

“If I told you that I loved you, would you say it back?”

Haruka couldn’t respond. Not because she didn’t know the answer, but because she didn’t want to hear herself say it. It would’ve broken the silent pact between them, the silent pact to deny everything, every emotion that made them feel anything at all. In the silence, Rin’s smile grew wider.

“One way to find out.”

Rin shot up, placed her hand behind Haruka’s head, and kissed her. Haruka tasted desperation, as if this were destined to be their last kiss, there on Rin’s lips. And in the thousands and thousands of times that she’d kissed her before, she’d never tasted that.

“Rin—”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. Haruka Nanase, I’m yours.”

She spoke in breathy, rapid whispers—as if she was afraid that time would run out before she could say anything. Her hands were still stiff and icy on Haruka’s cheeks, their lips a hair’s width apart. Haruka let time stop for a moment. Just to feel. Palms like crystals, breath of tobacco and cherry blossoms, that little piece of matted hair now matted to her forehead. The smell and feel and love of an absurdly beautiful and absurdly dangerous Rin Matsuoka.

“I don’t know,” she heard herself say.

“Yes you do.”

“No I—”

“It’s not hard. You know. I know you know.”

Rin kissed her again. The desperation was even more bitter this time. God, don’t stop kissing me, and there was her answer.  

“I love you, too,” she said. “What now?”         

“Let me take you to my room.” Rin kissed the corner of her lips, her cheek, the edge of her ear. “Let me make love to you.”

Haruka nodded. The wetness of the grass was beginning to soak through the seat of her jeans.

 

* * *

 

A young woman, muscular, brown hair so dark it was almost black cut short at her ears, sat calmly on the train out of town. Hands clasped in her lap, headphones fit snugly in her ears. She was listening to The Doors. They soothed her on trips, especially long ones like this. Her posture was absurdly straight for a girl of twenty. She wouldn’t so much as lean her elbow on the window. Soon enough, she figured, she would fall asleep. The train wouldn’t arrive in her hometown until the morning, so she had all night to get the irritating, restless sleep of travelers. Her gaze was fixed to the window, even though the scenery outside was hardly even visible in the darkness. The darkness covered her in consistency and made everything uncertain seem a little less significant, so she savored it, kept her gaze drinking in the darkness, like a portrait. People would’ve paid so much money to see her.

Her name was Sousuke Yamazaki, and she was thinking restlessly of Rin Matsuoka—

her partner, to whom she wouldn’t be able to return for three days, once her swift visit with family was finished. They’d kissed goodbye on the platform just a few hours ago, and each time Sousuke closed her eyes, Rin’s were there to greet her. Fuck, she loved that girl, more than the entire universe could even fathom. To love and be loved made her high and when people asked her to explain her love she was speechless because she was convinced, so convinced, that there were no words in any human language to describe the love she felt for Rin Matsuoka.

_Don’t ya love her madly?_

 

* * *

 

Rin was a goddess, a masterpiece, made of stars and kisses and drops of the ocean lying on the bed like that. She and Haruka were swimming in darkness—they’d closed the blinds, too. They liked the darkness at night, when they made love. Didn’t mind so much that they couldn’t see each other clearly, because they preferred to see each other in sunlight. In the morning, when they drowsily reached for the covers and for each other. And still, despite the darkness, Rin oozed beauty. Sexuality. Every hidden desire in Haruka’s heart that had ever existed was there in Rin’s lips when she kissed her, there on Rin’s fingertips when they cupped her breasts, there on Rin’s tongue when she pushed it into the sacred space between Haruka’s legs. In the darkness they melted together and let their moans become part of the walls. Haruka liked that her hair was long enough to touch Rin’s chest, even when she was sitting up. And she liked that, even when the hair got in their mouths, Rin never asked her to tie it up. Because Rin wanted to taste her, taste all of her, every inch.

They stained their fingers in each other and swallowed the screams—not that they cared if anybody heard. Sometimes, when Rin’s fingers were inside her, Haruka would try to muffle her cries. The red cheeks and steaming skin and obsessive obsessive obsessive kisses were too much already, weren’t they? But Rin wouldn’t let her.

“Call out for me, I want to hear you say my name with that liquid voice,” she would breathe, raspy, in Haruka’s ear. And Haruka would arch her back to let Rin carve her out and then she would cry Rin’s name until it crashed into the ceiling. Rin never bored of being obviously wanted, just as Haruka never bored of memorizing the details of her face in the early morning, when Rin was asleep and Haruka awake. Asleep last, awake first. Because, damn it, she didn’t want to waste a single moment that she could’ve spent staring at Rin Matsuoka.

“I love you,” Rin said, as she weaved her fingers through Haruka’s and pushed them down into the sheets. She kissed her neck, and dragged her tongue down between her breasts to her stomach. “I love you,” she said again, and kissed her again, moved her palms to the back of Haruka’s thighs. She could mold her like clay. “I love you,” again, kissed her lower.

“Rin.” An addiction. Her voice was barely audible. “Ri—ah.”

Rin flipped her hair out of her face and started to kiss Haruka between the thighs. Until, no matter how badly Haruka wanted to say her name, the only thing that came out of her shimmering, open lips was a visceral, crazed moan.

 

* * *

 

A fourth young woman with eyes as gentle as a stormless sea (but the color of emeralds) and hair the color of wet sand, stood in front of the mirror in her family home. Her room was empty, but in the hall, she could hear the pitter patter of her younger siblings’ footsteps wreaking havoc. But she, there in her room, lit with a few candles and nothing else, was alone. She didn’t get a lot of moments to herself, so they felt strange and out-of-place, but she savored them anyway. Her hair was always in a ponytail, so alone, she took out the rubberband and watched her creased hair fall down just past her shoulders. She grabbed a shiny black hairbrush—actually her mother’s—and ran it through. Her hair was thick and tangled easily. One of the reasons she often kept it out of her face. She’d heard that she was beautiful that way, because her face was kind and lovely and didn’t need strands of hair to soil it.

Her name was Makoto Tachibana and, like Sousuke, was taking this three-day weekend chance to visit her family. And, like Sousuke, she was thinking about her lover, her partner for five years now, Haruka Nanase. Her love for Haruka wasn’t as fiery and passionate as Sousuke’s was for Rin, but that was arguably because she’d been loving Haruka for long enough that it was consistent and numbed now. Not any less, just consistent enough for the flames to now feel warm instead of burning hot. They were together so often, practically glued at the hip, she always felt a bit lost when Haruka wasn’t there. And how was Haruka faring without her? There was, as much as Makoto tried to deny it, a dependent quality in Haruka’s personality. She assumed it was a deep-seated and at this point internalized lack of self-esteem but, if Makoto was honest with herself, she didn’t really know. It was just something she had always accepted in Haruka. Accepted and loved, the way a child naturally and inevitably loves its mother.

“Makoto! Dinner!”

“Coming.”

She tied her hair back up and went downstairs to join her family.

 

* * *

 

They tired each other out. It was around three in the morning, and Rin lay with her back to Haruka, in the malleable place between being asleep and being awake. Haruka lay flat on her back, hands clasped over her stomach, staring up at the ceiling as if it were a sky filled with stars. She tried closing her eyes and letting sleep take her, but when she did the world spun, although at most she’d had one beer. So she lay, awake and lost, mind wandering while the girl she loved fell asleep beside her. She couldn’t breathe.

“Rin,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we’re evil?”

“What’re you talking about, babe?”

“For doing this. Are we evil?”

“Ask me in the morning.”

Haruka wasn’t sure if Rin didn’t want to answer because she was sleepy, or because she didn’t like the question. It didn’t really matter, in the end. Haruka already knew the answer—someone who wasn’t evil wouldn’t do what they were doing. Breaking hearts so willingly. It was an evil thing to do, and being evil kept her awake for the rest of the night. 


	2. you'll show me your sketches?

2

you’ll show me your sketches?

They had both been attending school there, one of the most elite women’s colleges in the country, for two full years already, and hadn’t run into each other even once until the first day of their junior year. Different majors, maybe. But when Haruka thought about, it was strange that they had never even passed each other in the buildings, in the dining halls, on the paths that winded through campus. The school wasn’t all that big. It was statistically unbelievable—maybe, Rin tried to argue, they _had_ seen each other, but so fleetingly that they hadn’t recognized each other when they’d really met for the first time. But Haruka knew better than that. Before the first day of class in her junior year, she had never set eyes on Rin Matsuoka. So when she did, the universe exploded and she felt it.

 

* * *

 

Makoto loved to pamper her darling Haruka. On the first day of class, she got up early; her first class wasn’t until ten, but she knew Haruka’s was earlier, 8:30am, and she wanted to be the first person Haruka saw in the morning. Not as much as she wanted Haruka to be the first person she saw in the morning. She took a piss, washed her face, brushed her teeth, changed into a short skirt and t-shirt, tied her hair up into a ponytail, put on a splash of makeup, and then walked next door. She and Haruka had been able to snag single dorms right next to each other. She knocked on the door. And, in traditional fashion, there was no response.

“Haru?” she said. She knocked again. Satisfied then that Haruka couldn’t hear her, she turned the doorknob—Haruka was terrible at remembering to lock her door, so more often than not, Makoto could go in at will. Sure enough, when she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, she saw Haruka at her desk. She was good at getting up early (Makoto almost never had to wake her up) but was terrible at keeping track of time. Hunched over her desk like a gargoyle, she was sketching with her favorite blue pencil, her hand moving in swift, sure strokes. She had large headphones on to explain her inability to hear Makoto at the door. From behind, her hair looked like a satin blanket, so long it reached the center of her back. It wasn’t fair, because she probably hadn’t even brushed it, and it just looked like that.

Makoto was gentle, to avoid startling her. A few steps, just until she could put her hand on Haruka’s back. She jumped a bit, then lowered her headphones and turned around.

“Makoto,” she breathed.

“Good morning.”

Haruka was already puckering her lips before Makoto even leaned down to kiss them. They tasted like old chapstick and tea.

“Any idea what time it is?” Makoto asked. Haruka shook her head. “It’s eight.”

“Oh.”

Makoto glanced over Haruka’s shoulder, at the sketch—it looked like the rough beginnings of a self-portrait. Just the silhouette of the body was drawn, sitting with legs hugged to the chest.

“Beautiful, as always.”

“It’s just a draft.”

“I was talking about you,” Makoto smiled, and kissed her again. “Come on. I’ll help you get ready.”

“Okay.”

It mostly involved sitting on the bed, providing absentminded conversation, while Haruka got dressed and quickly ran a brush through her hair. Leggings and a tank top. It was a scorcher outside.

“Will you do my makeup?” she asked.

“Of course.” Makoto didn’t want to do much. Haruka was almost too gorgeous without makeup, so going overboard would be...well, going overboard. Just a bit of eye shadow, mascara, lip-gloss. “It’s funny. You’re so good at drawing, but can’t do makeup at all.”

“I never practice. That’s why.”

“Right,” Makoto chuckled. “Okay. Done. I’ll walk you to class.”

Haruka nodded.

Side by side, fingers interlocked, they walked the five minutes from their dorm to the academic quad. Haruka had the tendency of spacing out, but Makoto didn’t mind—she liked just walking, just holding her hand, just _being beside her_ instead of anywhere else. And she knew that her voice, even if Haruka wasn’t really listening, calmed her down. She was staring out toward the lake, backpack sagging to her lower back because she never tightened it enough, and the sun was still low on the horizon. It lit her silhouette up in sharp, orange lines. Makoto couldn’t breathe when she looked at her, but she was used to it, so she let herself suffocate calmly.

They stopped in front of the art building, where most of Haruka’s classes were. Other young women were filing in, some that Makoto knew, some that she didn’t. Some wide awake, some gripping coffee and trying not to fall asleep standing up.

“See you for lunch?” Makoto asked.

“Yup.”

“Okay. Have a good class.”

They kissed, chaste, like children kissing for the first time on the playground.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Haruka waved, managed a smile (probably the only one she would give that day), and disappeared into the building. Makoto went to get breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Sousuke and Rin had a wildly different morning.

By 7:30, they were awake and fucking. Hard. Sousuke kept Rin from being too loud by stealing her voice with dramatic, aggressive kisses. Rin lived for it. Usually she was assertive and cocky, but sometimes, Sousuke could transform her into a pillow princess. They hadn’t been dating for long, but they’d known each other since childhood—Sousuke was convinced, _convinced_ , that she knew the ins and outs of everything Rin was. It was a rush, claiming to know so well the person you loved. But they were fresh to love, and to fucking each other. It was hard to get their fill. On mornings like this, Sousuke’s tongue was made of flowers, her fingertips laced with nicotine.

But even as she watched Rin writhe beneath her, wearing nothing but the t-shirt she’d slept in, Sousuke couldn’t help but think about the other people who had touched Rin like this. She was like a goddamn revelation.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rin breathed, after coming. She threw her arm over her eyes and smiled. Sousuke collapsed beside her, squeezed together in this stupid twin bed. “If you had told me how good you were in bed, I would’ve started dating you way sooner.”

“You flatter me.”

Sousuke kissed her shoulder and watched her breathe.

“All right, I have to shower.”

“No, stay here,” Sousuke hissed, wrapping her arms around Rin’s waist. But Rin was strict—with a laugh and a kiss to Sousuke’s nose, she got out of bed.

“I have class, you big doofus.”

“Oh yeah. Me, too.”

“Oh yeah. Me, too,” Rin repeated mockingly. Then she threw a t-shirt at Sousuke’s face. “Get dressed.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Rin popped into the shower and got dressed—ripped jeans and a t-shirt. Sousuke was still laying in bed, had practically fallen back asleep. Rin woke her up and told her to get her ass moving.

“All right, all right. Hey, hold on—I thought you didn’t have class until later.”

“I don’t. But I volunteered to be a model for one of the sketch classes. Get me some extra cash.”

“Oh, right. I don’t know, though, you’re so weird-looking that those students are gonna have a hard time.”

“Shut the hell up.”

For just a moment, Sousuke willed, just come to bed for a moment. As if Rin could read her mind, she sat down in Sousuke’s lap and kissed her, dug her fingers into her hair, and grinded down against her. Sousuke couldn’t imagine that love felt any better than this.

 

* * *

 

Haruka had wanted to go to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, but she hadn’t gotten in. Admittedly, she had applied before she’d refined her skills to be good enough there. So she’d come here, to a school with a reputable drawing program, and had surpassed any expectation of skill that anybody could have had. Every spare moment she had she spent drawing. Sketching. Anything and everything. So, sitting in the back of the room during her first “Advanced Drawing” class, she wasn’t listening to a word the professor was saying. It was all about the syllabus anyway, she figured, so she instead spent her energy working on the sketch from the morning. She had originally intended the figure to be an imitation of herself but, after this morning, wanted it to be Makoto instead. She adjusted the body type of the silhouette accordingly. Didn’t need a reference photo. She could still taste the comfort of Makoto on her lips. 

Most of the other students in the class already knew Haruka. Almost every person in this small, ten-person class was a Studio Art major, and Haruka was well known for her absurd talent and tendency to space out. So nobody batted an eye when they glanced over and saw her sketching away. And the professor seemed unable to have cared any less.

Just then, the professor was interrupted mid-sentence when the classroom door was thrown open. Haruka’s gaze flickered upward, and it was in that moment that she saw Rin Matsuoka for the first time. She stopped sketching. The young woman who had just strolled in was lean and radiant.

“Morning,” she said, dropping her bag to the floor. Everyone was staring and she hardly noticed.

“Good morning,” the professor replied, slowly. She seemed at a loss. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m the model you needed? The nude one?”

As the room erupted into amused whispers, Haruka felt her face get hot. The girl hadn’t noticed her yet. She was staring shamelessly.

“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong class. You’re probably looking for Life Drawing,” the professor said.

“Right. I was told it was in...205? That’s this room, right?”

“Someone must have given you wrong information. This is 205, but Life Drawing is upstairs in 305. And they’re probably missing their model.”

“My bad. Thanks,” the girl laughed. Not embarrassed at all. She leaned down to get her bag and when she stood back up her eyes met Haruka’s.

Nothing life-changing happened in that moment, directly. They looked at each other for a bit, and couldn’t even get a lot of details because Haruka was at the back of the room and Rin was at the front. But a few sparks are often enough to cause fires that destroy buildings and demolish cities. Their eyes met and then the chronology of their destruction of each other and those around them was set in motion.

After that single moment, that single spark, Rin turned and left. But she was thinking about the beautiful, mysterious dark-haired girl with the blue eyes. And Haruka, though she went back to sketching, was thinking about the sexy, exuberant red-haired girl with the ripped jeans. She’d already taken Life Drawing, but what she wouldn’t have given in that moment to draw Rin Matsuoka, nude, was a very short list. That girl was meant to be drawn by Haruka. That’s why it was fate that she was told 205 instead of 305.

She tried to sketch her face as best as she could from memory.

It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her.

Haruka didn’t have class again until after lunch, so she wanted to sit outside in the quad and sketch until lunch. Soon homework would start to pile up and she wouldn’t have as many chances to just sit and sketch. When class was dismissed, she calmly stood up and followed the current of students leaving the building. She said a few cursory hello, how was your summer, to her fellow art majors, but really wanted nothing more than to go back into the quad in the hopes that the red-haired model would magically appear. Surely she would be leaving the building right now, too. Haruka found herself genuinely wondering if she had made the entire thing up.         

But almost as soon as Haruka stepped out of the building, she saw her, leaning against the railing of the stairs. Drinking from a smoothie, sunglasses pushed up to her head, swiping through her phone like a chore. Haruka hugged her sketchbook to her chest and walked past her. Just as she did, Rin looked up, and their eyes met again, and even as she passed Haruka could feel her eyes on her back. Watching her walk away. Haruka just kept going, until she reached a large tree and collapsed beneath it. When she finally glanced back up, sketchbook in hand, the red-haired girl was gone. She let out the breath she’d been holding and drew. The girl’s face, from memory, as well as she could.

Her silent frustration didn’t last long.

“What are you drawing?”

* * *

 

There she was. Squatting, slurping from her smoothie.

Galaxies exploding in her eyes and rainbows painting her skin.

 

* * *

 

Haruka stared, wide-eyed, surprised. The girl smiled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. You just look so into it, I _have_ to know what you’re drawing.”

What was she going to do? Show this stranger a sketch that looked uncannily like her?

“Nothing.” She closed the sketchbook and hastily stuck it into her backpack. The girl was unfazed. Her eyes wouldn’t leave Haruka’s, wouldn’t flicker away for even a moment. Another sip of her smoothie. She was close enough that Haruka could see the pearls of sweat on her temples.

“You know, you’d probably be good at lying, if I hadn’t just seen you drawing something that definitely wasn’t nothing.”

“None of your business, then.”

“See, that makes more sense.” Satisfied, the girl sat down across from Haruka and stretched out her hand. “I’m Rin, by the way.”

“Haruka.”

“Cute.”

They shook hands. Both of them must have felt it—indescribable, but something. Otherwise Rin wouldn’t have come over.

_Rin._

_Rin._

Over and over in her head.

“Haru. Like a spring,” Rin mused. “Mind if I call you Haru?”

“Everyone calls me Haru.”

“Haru it is.”

_Keep saying my name, just like that._

“Jeez, it’s so hot. I don’t know how you can just sit out here drawing like that,” Rin breathed.

“I don’t really notice the weather.”

Rin raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“You don’t notice the weather?” she said. Haruka shook her head. “Yeah, to be fair, I don’t see a single drop of sweat on you.”

“Can’t say the same for you.”

Rin, proving Haruka’s point, grinned as she wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.

“What year are you?” she asked.

“Junior.”

“Me, too. Weird we’ve never run into each other.” She paused. “I’m guessing you’re a Studio Art major.”

A nod.

“And a woman of few words,” she continued.

“What’s your major?”

Rin imitated the shape of a camera with her fingers, and snapped an imaginary photo.

“Photography.”

“Ah.”

“If I show you some of my photos, you’ll show me your sketches?”

“No.”

“Come on!”

“I don’t know you.”

“Fair enough.” Rin suddenly hopped up to her feet, energetic despite her complaints of the heat. “Well, nice to meet you. Gotta go before my girlfriend throws a fit.” Haruka watched her. Silent. Nervous. “See you around?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.”

With a wave she was gone, down the stairs toward the student center.

Haruka felt as if she’d just run a marathon.

For the first time in five years, she had forgotten totally and completely about Makoto. 


	3. you should get a photo next time

3

you should get a photo next time

Over lunch, Haruka was mostly silent.

Makoto was talking about something—how her first class was, how she loved the heat, how her family said hello and her younger siblings wanted Haruka to go visit them. On and on while Haruka picked at her food. Wished she could be sketching.

“How was your class, Haru?”

The question brought her from daydreams about red hair back to this dining hall reality.

“Good. About what I expected.”

“Know people in the class?”

“Yeah.”

“Well...meet anyone new?”

Haruka liked that Makoto looked after her by habit. Drilled into her brain and nerves after years of loving and quickly realizing that Haruka expressed affection and intimacy by letting someone care for her blind, twisted soul. Not blind or twisted, Makoto argued. Just unsure. Either way, Haruka knew that Makoto’s consistency kept her afloat.

_Consistency. Good, right?_

_Healthy numbness. Can’t feel the tingling anymore._

“A girl with red hair named Rin,” she replied. “Do you know her?”

Makoto narrowed her eyes, visibly wracked her brain.

“Tall, kinda tan. Short hair—”

“Oh, you probably mean Rin Matsuoka,” Makoto smiled. “I don’t really know her, but we had a class together.”

“Matsuoka.”

“She’s pretty nice. And beautiful,” Makoto continued. “I actually heard that she started dating Sousuke Yamazaki over the summer.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Makoto laughed and wiped the crumbs from the corner of Haruka’s mouth. “I’m just glad you’re meeting new people.”

“I’m not in kindergarten.”

“No, I know. I just feel like you never really talk to anybody, yeah?”

“I’m fine that way.”

Makoto gave another smile, a little bit sad, and Haruka hated that. She just shrugged and kept picking at her food. She wanted to know more about Rin Matsuoka, but figured it would’ve been weird to ask Makoto about that—she already said she didn’t know her outside of the one class they’d had together, and even if she did, it wasn’t a topic of conversation Haruka was ready to explain to anybody. Especially not her girlfriend. So she swung back into silence while Makoto swung back into conversation. Back into their usuals, back into their routines, back into nothing.

That night, after a while of bright, familiar loving, as Makoto was putting her clothes back on to go to her room and fall asleep, Haruka found herself wondering if things had always felt this way. This was what happiness was supposed to feel like, of course, this comfort to the point of boredom was the ultimate goal, right? Always working to feel loved and accepted, putting in so much effort that it feels like a chore—they’d passed that point so long ago. That was the goal, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t sure. And was even more confused as she watched Makoto get dressed and suddenly remembered that the first time she’d seen Makoto naked, she had cried. Now it was like an image etched into her brain in muted blacks and grays. Permanent. Quiet.

 

* * *

 

Haruka hardly slept. At around 6am she found herself back at her desk, headphones over her ears, Yeah Yeah Yeahs blaring while she tried in vain to finish her rough sketch of Rin Matsuoka’s face. It was hard to nail the details. They’d met so briefly that she could hardly remember anything other than what she’d managed to quickly scratch down. The curl of her lips, like this? Did she have freckles? Her teeth weren’t completely straight—or were they? She couldn’t remember how long her eyelashes were. She considered for a moment sneaking onto Facebook or Instagram or one of the millions of social media outlets that this girl was bound to inhabit, but something held her back. In some frightened way, she was afraid of seeing Rin Matsuoka’s face again. It had made her feel something profound the first time, and she wasn’t sure that she needed that again. Not so soon.

What did it mean that she couldn’t really remember her face? 

At 7am, around the time Makoto would’ve been waking up (without headphones Haruka could’ve heard her alarm through the paper thin walls), Haruka got a text message on her phone.

“How have I not seen you yet, stupid? We’re getting lunch,” it read. From a friend that Haruka hadn’t seen since last semester. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Lunch it is,” she responded.

And so it was. For the entirety of the morning, Haruka did not again run into Rin Matsuoka. Maybe she was elusive, maybe had class on another side of campus, maybe she really was just a dream. Her sketch remained unfinished and her heart calm, like an ocean without waves bathing in speckled sun. The way it had been for years under the watchful eye of her lover. By the time she arrived at the dining hall for lunch, she was exhausted from the sheer nerves. Nerves over what? She wouldn’t have been able to describe it if asked. The campus was alight with something.

Haruka stood at the entrance of the dining hall, scanning the room for the familiar face she was there to meet. She’d bailed on Makoto to meet her. Scanning, scanning, perusing the crowd of faces blurring together—

“Haru-chan!”

A pair of arms wrapped around her neck from behind, pulling her down. She nearly dropped her books. She turned around to see Nagisa Hazuki—one year younger than her, short, with blonde hair like sunlight curled to her shoulders and a smile just the same. They had met in an art class that Nagisa was just taking for fun last year, and Nagisa had taken it upon herself to make Haruka her friend. They were the kind of extrovert-introvert pairing that turned heads, they were so different. But Haruka liked being around Nagisa’s energy, exhausting as it was; sometimes she could take some of that sunlight for herself.

“Hi, Nagisa.”

“Look at you! You literally didn’t change at all. Same haircut and everything.”

Before Haruka could even respond, Nagisa grabbed her hand and pulled to a table near the windows. She was always drawn to sunlight, like sunflowers. She was wearing a bright pink sundress.

“Okay, I’m going to get food. Be right back.”

With a wink, Nagisa was gone almost as soon as she’d appeared, off to pile her plate as high as the ceiling. Haruka, characteristically not hungry, sat and tinkered with her phone. Until Nagisa planted herself back at the table and grabbed Haruka’s hand.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said. “How was your summer?”

“Fine.”

“You were doing that internship, right? At the, um...”

“The museum of modern art.”

“Yes! The MoMa! You’re so impressive. Like New York?”

“I hated it. Not the museum. Just the city.”

“Of course you did,” she grinned. “I just spent the summer at home. Worked that stupid waitress job to save up some money. You know how it is.”

Haruka nodded, even though she didn’t really know how it was.

They fell into easy conversation. With Nagisa, Haruka had to talk even less than when she was with Makoto. Nagisa expected the bare minimum from her. She was the type of friend who made you feel special, like a celebrity, like the only person who really mattered in that moment, and you didn’t need to do anything to even warrant such a position. Her love was vast and unyielding and, somehow, Haruka had been chosen as one of its recipients. Nagisa blabbered on between stuffing fries into her glossy mouth. Then, after a while, she turned the conversation back to Haruka like a spotlight.

“So? When am I gonna see your work in all my favorite galleries?” she pestered.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Shut up, you’re like the best artist I’ve ever seen.” She grabbed her glass of water and downed it all in the span of a second. “Oh, _also_ , when are you gonna sketch me? You promised me you would, remember?”

“Sure.”

“I look the best in summer. This is as tan as I’ll get, so you better take advantage while you can. Before the leaves change color and I’m sapped of all my energy,” she pouted. “How about this weekend?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Yay! I’ll do my makeup all pretty,” she gushed. “But if you make me look ugly, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Haruka smiled at that. She leaned her chin on her hand and traced the rim of her own glass with her finger. In the moments of silence and stillness, her mind wandered back to red hair and smoothies. As if that were its standard state.

She looked at Nagisa’s face for a second. Nagisa was the most social person Haruka knew and, despite only being a sophomore, probably knew every student in the school. The gossip that spilled from her mouth was never taken with even the smallest grain of salt. Her word was practically law and, in terms of social hierarchy, she could’ve been at the top if she’d given a fuck. People were starting to spread the rumor that she had a thing for the projected class valedictorian, and everyone was waiting for their fate-destined hookup. Because Nagisa got whatever she wanted, little gay charmer that she was. Part of the reason for this was that Nagisa was one of the bartenders at the student-run bar on campus, and that instantly afforded her some status. All this rushed through Haruka’s head in the moment that she watched her.

“Hey, Nagisa.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you know someone named Rin Matsuoka?”

“Who doesn’t?” she scoffed. “She’s a fucking goddess.”

“A goddess...?”

“Everyone who’s ever so much as _looked_ at her has fallen in love. One of those people, you know? Makes girls who think they’re straight turn very, very gay.”

Haruka looked back into her empty glass.

“Also the biggest player you’ve ever seen,” Nagisa continued. “I know you don’t really hang out with us singles, what with your serious relationship and all, but talk to literally any single queer chick on this campus and the odds are she’s at least made out with Rin at the bar. Not that it’s weird. Have you seen her? She looks like a model. Always hanging around there with a beer or something, waiting for her prey to walk in.”

“You included among these chicks?”

“Me?” Nagisa snorted, and had to wipe her nose with a napkin. “No, I’m not an idiot. Don’t want my heart in that graveyard of hers. Besides, I don’t think I’d be her type.”

“I heard she was dating someone now, though.”

_So I’m not the first to feel this. Not by a long shot. That’s good._

“She is. They just started over summer. You know Sousuke Yamazaki?”

“No.”

“Really nice, but can seem kinda stand-offish. Super tall. Pre-med? Anyway, they’ve been friends for a while. Apparently over the summer Sousuke confessed her love and boom. Here they are. All lovey-dovey for the whole world to see.”

“So they’re serious.”

“I dunno. I don’t really talk to either of them.” Nagisa’s expression changed for a moment, and her lips turned up into a devious smile. “Why all this interest in Rin Matsuoka all of a sudden?”

“I just met her yesterday. Curiosity,” Haruka said.

“Mkay, sure.” She popped another fry into her mouth. “So you’ve seen how gorgeous she is.”

“Yeah.”

“A good potential muse?”

“I already have a muse.”

“You mean Mako-chan.” Like a cat, Nagisa stretched her arms up, and even then, she looked small. “How could I have forgotten?”

“She probably misses you.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta see her soon. Ugh, it’s just so hard, catching up with everybody, you know?”

Haruka smiled.

“No.”

Nagisa smiled back.

“I really did miss you, Haru-chan.”  

 

* * *

 

Blue. That had been the color of her eyes.

For about a week over the summer Rin visited the beach, lying out on the sand and letting the sun stain her skin. She’d always tanned easily. She spent a lot of time in the water, closed her eyes and let the waves wash over her. She and her younger brother would count down the time that it took each wave to reach them, and then jump up to reach its apex and smile over at each other across the ocean. But once, on a rougher day, one of the waves overwhelmed them. It crashed over them and Rin didn’t have the chance to close her eyes before the water took control.

The blue she saw in that moment reminded her of the color of Haruka Nanase’s eyes.

Not in shade, but in texture. Her eyes were bluer than any ocean, but the same waves were there.

She’d been riddled, ever since seeing those eyes for the first time in that classroom, with the desire to photograph that girl. It felt like more than a desire. It felt like an obligation—like it would be a crime to not photograph her. As a photographer, she had a duty to find the most beautiful things in the world and depict them in ways that other people could understand and appreciate. Haruka Nanase’s eyes, her entire face, were certainly one of those beautiful things. They had to be. Otherwise, the great photographer (future great photographer) Rin Matsuoka had misunderstood everything beauty was her entire life.

So, desperate to forget about that beauty, she threw herself at Sousuke.

“Come on, babe.”

She stood over her, fingers entangled in her short hair, kissing her temple. Sousuke was at her desk. Studying. Because she was always studying.

“You can’t take just a short break...?” she purred into Sousuke’s ear.

“No, I told you. If I take a break I won’t get back into it. I really need to get this studying done,” she sighed. Sousuke wasn’t afraid of being obviously frustrated with Rin and, in a weird way, Rin appreciated that. Not enough to be understanding about it, of course. She was much too needy for that.

“Just kiss me for like five minutes and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Rin,” Sousuke sighed.

“Please?”

“Am I going to have to go to the library? I really can’t right now. If you leave me alone for like another hour and let me get this done, we can do whatever you want.”

“But you’ll be tired then.”

Melodramatic and irritated, Rin fell down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. She put her fingers into a square and imagined all the things that could go there. Sousuke was taking the MCAT in a few months, her key into medical school, and while Rin supported that goal with every fiber of her being, she didn’t like that it meant less attention. She had nothing else to do now but think about the blue eyes and silhouette of that girl. Sketching under the tree, looking like a portrait herself. The grass had looked extra green, the tree trunk extra brown, the sky extra blue, in that area right around her. God, she’d wanted to know what she was sketching.

“I met someone with the bluest eyes ever today,” Rin mused.

“Yeah?”

She knew Sousuke wasn’t actually listening. It was fine.

“They didn’t look real.”

“You should get a photo next time.”

“Yeah.” She saw Haruka Nanase’s face between her square-shaped fingers. “Yeah, I should.” 


	4. join me?

4

join me?

Being beautiful was a talent for Rin.

Sousuke was convinced of that.

It was a skill that she had carved and perfected in herself over the years, and now it was a part of her. Another of her talents she could push out on the world to admire. Flowers wilted when she frowned at them, and the campus was littered with pieces of hearts that she’d destroyed.

And it wasn’t just beauty.

Rin was a siren. She was charming, witty, sarcastic or sincere at the right moments, she could yell at you and make you hate yourself. To be worthy of her admiration, to be worthy of even a fleeting smile from a soul as bright and intense as hers, was a feat.

She was dangerous and terrifying, she was poison that tasted like honey, and Sousuke was in love with her and loathed herself for it.

She got through by holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she would escape the graveyard. How many times had Rin told her that she loved her? And how many other people had she said that to in her life? Surely not the girls roaming campus who had spent one or two nights with her, Rin didn’t say she loved _them_ , she only loved _Sousuke_ , that was true and real and it made Sousuke stupid.

 

* * *

 

Rin Matsuoka was a nightmare.

But her smile looked like dreams.

 

* * *

 

“I love you,” Sousuke sighed into her ear.

“I know,” Rin whispered. “Fuck me harder.”

 

* * *

 

Haruka didn’t like to go out on the weekends—she didn’t like to crawl around the streets from smelly bar to smelly bar, downing drinks that made her gag and pressing herself into corners where men couldn’t grope her. She liked eating out in restaurants, or going to movies, she loved going to art galleries. But she didn’t like to go out. Even on campus, when it lit up on Thursday nights and the on-campus bar filled with students like her looking to forget the stress of the week, she stayed in. She and Makoto had made it their habit to watch movies and eat as much junk food as they could on Thursday nights, smiling while the sounds erupted outside their dorm. Haruka found solace in those Thursday nights. She found solace in quiet darkness and comfortable love. Another part of her routine, to be loved softly.

Maybe it was coincidence, maybe a divine prank, that on this particular Thursday, Makoto had a meeting to go to.

“I’m so sorry, Haru, but I can’t do tonight—it’ll be the only time, I promise. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

The standard kiss on the forehead. A failed attempt at a panacea.

Any other week, Haruka would have sulked; it was hard for her to avoid, with rationality, the feeling of being abandoned. Rationality wasn’t one of her strong suits.

But on this particular week, Haruka was thinking back to what Nagisa had said a few days ago.

_“Always hanging around there with a beer or something...”_

There was unfinished sketch in her backpack and a tangled knot in her stomach.

For the first time in three years, Haruka decided to go alone to the on-campus bar. There was no reason not to that could convince her to stay in. Nagisa would be there. That was at least one person she would know, even if she would be behind the bar pouring drinks like she was serving a bachelorette party. She hadn’t had a drink in a while. Maybe it would calm her down—maybe she could score something better. Her connection had graduated and she was still looking for a new one, and tonight seemed as good as night as any to go hunting.

Those were all excuses, of course, that she repeated to herself like vows. There was really only one reason she was going to the bar and it had red hair and a smile like shooting stars.

Standing in front of the mirror, she put on her favorite pair of tight black leggings, a tight blue t-shirt that barely covered her stomach, ran a brush through her hair and her favorite sneakers. She even put on lipstick—a light pink. It was one of the three shades she owned, and the only makeup she absolutely knew how to apply. Satisfied, when the clock struck 9:30pm, she embarked on the five-minute journey to the bar.

It was early. The place wasn’t crowded. A few stragglers sitting at the bar, drinking a beer. Couples in the booths, whispering sweet nothings and fizzling I-love-yous. Haruka walked in and went straight to the bar, where Nagisa was already working. Cleaning the countertops swiftly and deftly. When she glanced up and saw Haruka, her face lit up like a neon sign.

“Haru-chan! I can’t believe you actually showed up!” she gushed. Haruka sat down right across from her and clasped her fingers in her lap, let her shoulders slouch a little bit. She was good at making people think she was sitting up straight, even when she wasn’t. A weird habit that would never be useful, but people close to her tended to notice anyway.

“Makoto has a meeting to go to, so I figured I’d come say hi,” she said.

“Amazing! You’re taking advantage of junior year, I see. Want a drink?”

“What’s your favorite beer?”

With a wink, Nagisa poured into a glass one of the beers on tap. Before Haruka could even pull out her wallet, she put her hand up.

“Nope! This one’s on the house.”

“Nagisa—”

“Just keep coming, okay? Then you’ll make up for it.”

She slid the glass across the counter. The beer was the color of cherry wood. It wasn’t bad, definitely something Haruka could finish. She stared aimlessly at the wall behind the bar and took intermittent sips of her beer. Time passed in distant, unusual ways.

“Give it, like, an hour. This place will start filling up, for sure,” Nagisa reassured.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Especially on a Thursday. Most seniors decide not to have any classes on Friday, so they spend their Thursday nights making me money.”

Haruka let one side of her lips turn upward, while Nagisa served another person who’d just arrived. The dance floor was still empty and, outside, through the windows, Haruka could see a group of people smoking cigarettes and laughing. Probably gossip. Not that she cared—she would’ve killed for a cigarette though. She hadn’t had a single one since New York, and it wasn’t that she wanted one _physiologically_ , they just had a calming quality. The rhythm of bringing the cigarette to and from her mouth made her feel secure in something. Herself, maybe. The toxins, more likely. She hadn’t even smoked that much in New York. Just with the other interns at the museum, who had made themselves seem much more worldly and cultured just for smoking some damn cigarettes like fifties golden girls. She didn’t mind the taste.

She took a sip of beer felt it scratch down her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a drink, let alone been drunk—Makoto probably remembered. Because Makoto was probably the one who had taken care of her. Haruka was not a good drunk.

“So? What suddenly brings you in, stranger?” Nagisa asked once she’d made her way back over. Haruka shrugged and took another sip of beer. A bigger one this time. “Mako-chan know you’re here?”

“I mean...”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“She didn’t ask.”

“Naughty girlfriend.”

“I’m not a pet. I can do things on my own.”

Nagisa’s eyebrows came up as her elbows hit the counter.

“I’m impressed, Haru-chan.”

“You’re so patronizing.”

“I’m just messing with you, relax! You know I think you’re like the coolest person,” Nagisa grinned. She reached out, pinched Haruka’s nose, as if to make her point, as if that was her special way of saying “I love you.”

Nagisa was an inherently observant person, kind of like Haruka, except she was much better at making herself seem like an airhead. Getting people to underestimate her. People looked at Haruka and sensed sensitivity. So Haruka was thankful that Nagisa didn’t seem to notice how, every few moments, Haruka’s eyes were drawn back toward the bar entrance. Still slow, a few people dropping in every ten or fifteen minutes. She didn’t want Nagisa to point it out, because she didn’t want to explain it, even to herself. Was she really here for that? It was absurd, absurd, she wasn’t like this, not at all.

_Of course I am. I’ve always been like this. It’s what makes me an artist and obsessive to a fault._

Obsessive was an understatement to describe anything that Haruka Nanase’s heart was attracted to.

At one point, a young woman that Haruka recognized (but whose name she couldn’t quite remember) walked into the bar. And as soon as she did, Nagisa straightened up, and her face became even brighter—like the sun had risen and cast its light only on her. She dusted herself off needlessly and gave an excited/nervous/charming smile to Haruka. Raised her eyebrows mischievously. The girl was tall, skinny (not as skinny as Haruka, not as much chub as Nagisa, not as muscular as Makoto), with ocean hair that dropped past her shoulders and narrow red glasses. She was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and suspenders. Just the look of her was meticulous. This, Haruka realized, must have been the girl destined to fall into Nagisa’s arms.

“Rei-chan! You made it!”

The girl perked up at the sound of Nagisa’s voice, and sauntered over without so much as a smile. She took the seat on Haruka’s right, looking over her briefly.

“Hi, Nagisa.”

“I’m surprised you came.”

“Well, I managed to finish all my homework for tomorrow since it’s early in the year, so I figured I would pop in and say hello.”

“I am so glad you did,” Nagisa gushed. Her friendliness was almost overbearing, and Haruka was amused. “Rei, this is one of my best friends, Haruka Nanase. Haruka, this is Rei Ryugazaki. She’s an econ major. She’s gonna be valedictorian of our class.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Rei smiled. She reached her hand out to Haruka, very professional, she sat strangely straight and she was lovely. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you in our grade...?”

“She’s a junior,” Nagisa answered. “An art major.”

“Wow. You must be talented to be an art major at a school like this,” Rei said.

“She is. Haru-chan, you’ll have to show Rei-chan some of your work.” She paused, and then beamed. “Wait! No, wait. Rei-chan, Haru-chan said she’s going to draw a sketch of me this weekend. Maybe she can do one of you, too!”

Rei blushed.

“N-no, I don’t think I could impose like that,” she stuttered.

“It’s not imposing. Haru-chan loves it. She’s always looking for new models, but she would probably be too nervous to ask you herself. Right, Haru-chan?”

Haruka nodded, because it wasn’t false, and thought about how beautifully she could draw the sharp lines of Rei Ryugazaki’s face.

“And it won’t take long. She’s good, and fast. What do you say? We could make it like a date.” By that time Nagisa had filled up a glass of beer and pushed it toward Rei. Rei took it with an anxious smile.

“Well...all right. I don’t see why not.”

“She’s going to make us look like supermodels,” Nagisa cooed. And, for good measure, threw a wink in Rei’s direction; it made her blush harder. Haruka liked watching them together. As time passed and Nagisa switched between talking to Rei (and Haruka) and working, Haruka watched their interactions unfold like a dance, Nagisa the obvious leader, Rei the graceful follower. Both independent and both clearly into each other, just one less fearful about it. She wanted everybody to see the dance, and Rei seemed content just to be doing it. At least for now. Haruka couldn’t claim to be able to read Rei very well. She seemed a unique one.

The night started to blur and, as the bar became crowded and humid and the music got louder, Haruka ordered another beer and insisted on paying for this one. The noise was surrounding her like fog and the beer tasted like wood all of a sudden, and she started to regret coming. There was nothing here for her but staring at a blank counter. Watching her friend get someone to fall in love with her, easily, and trying hard to remind herself to think about her own lover. Why was it suddenly so hard to spend her thoughts on Makoto? The love of her life. Her soulmate. She had decided already. There was nothing in her life as consistent, as comfortable, as simple as her relationship with Makoto. Her sketchbook was filled with portraits of her. Since they had been children. She stared at her reflection restlessly on the counter. The person looking back at her was lifeless and terrifying, but she couldn’t look away. Like watching a car crash. Devastating, bleak, colorless.

“Haru. Bright blue, and in spring there are cherry blossoms all over.”

Her head snapped up. Like the moon on a misty night Rin Matsuoka had appeared beside her, drink already in hand. She was looking at Haruka knowingly. Haruka met her eyes with bravery she hadn’t known herself to possess and the red of her hair was the most vivid color she’d seen in years.

“Remember me?”

“Rin,” she said without hesitation. Rin smiled and drank from her beer as if it were water.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“It’s the first week of school.”

“I mean in the past,” Rin shot back. “I’m here almost every Thursday.”

They had to speak louder than normal to hear each other, and leaned in reflexively toward the space between them. It had grown especially loud. They were warm and deafened at the bar.

“I wanted a drink.”

“Clearly.” Rin lifted her glass dramatically. “To the start of a kickass junior year.”

Haruka lifted her glass tentatively—Rin clanked them together. The sound echoed in Haruka’s headspace.

“Bottoms up.”

Haruka took a mild sip, but Rin downed the entire thing, slammed her cup down onto the counter, and wiped her lips on the back of her bare hand. Haruka blinked, slowly.

“You know, I was thinking about you today. Ironic, right?”

“You were thinking about me?” Haruka parroted. “Why?”

“Because I looked up at the sky and it was especially sunny, and what do you know? It was the same color as your eyes.”

“My...eyes.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you have eyes like summer sky?”

Haruka couldn’t describe what she was feeling. Fear, mostly. This girl was terrifying her.

“You’d be the first,” she replied quietly.

In their closeness, just to be able to hear each other over the clamor, Haruka could feel the warmth of her breath and see the slight curls on the edges of her lips. Her pores were clear but she had a little pimple scar under her left eye, tiny and red and barely noticeable. Haruka was trying to burn into her memory every detail of Rin’s face, so that she could finish her sketch. There was something about her teeth. Her canines were disproportionately long compared to the rest of her teeth, and they almost looked like fangs. Haruka dove into Rin’s eyes and wondered what she was thinking about this closeness. Surely, Haruka told herself, it wasn’t nothing. Surely there was no way for Haruka to feel something like this if Rin didn’t feel anything at all. That seemed illogical.

“Well then, I’m honored to be the first person to tell you that you have eyes like summer sky,” Rin said. Haruka suddenly wanted to show them off. She batted her eyelashes. Rin licked her lips, and Haruka felt her world falling apart.

“It’s kind of loud,” she said, more to herself than to Rin.

“Yeah. I was gonna go out for a smoke anyway—join me?”

Haruka nodded. She followed Rin through the crowd, felt like everybody was staring at her as she squeezed past them, until they stumbled out the door to the patio, where there were tables and chairs littered with students having a smoke and flirting and gossiping. Rin gravitated toward a stone bench and had the cigarette in her mouth before they’d even sat down. Despite the darkness, the night was warm.

Rin offered Haruka the carton of cigarettes (Marlboro gold), so she took one and put it between her lips. Rin lit herself up first but, when Haruka reached for the lighter, pulled it away.

“Nope,” she grinned, smoke coming out of her nostrils. “Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes.”

Blushing like a middle schooler, Haruka took a deep breath in as Rin lit her up. It was delightfully toxic. They blew out toward the black sky and Haruka closed her eyes. Makoto hated it when she smoked.

“My girlfriend hates it when I smoke,” Rin said.

Haruka held back her laughter. She looked over when she felt Rin staring at her, and they locked eyes again. Their worlds were collapsing in that moment, and they were jumping willingly into the crevices. 


	5. and how would you draw me?

5

and how would you draw me?

There were a few inches between their thighs, there on that stone bench, and they were like little electric sparks. Making their skin warm. Haruka took a drag, then turned so she could watch Rin do the same. She was staring up at the sky, cigarette hanging from her lips. The darkness was lit only by a flickering lamp post a few yards away. There was a half-finished bottle of beer on her other side. Haruka wanted to see her drink from it.

“Sometimes I like being in loud places,” Rin mused. “I don’t have to think as much that way.”

“I always hate it.”

“Yeah?”

Haruka nodded. Rin’s eyes turned to her—amused. Almost intrigued; Haruka allowed herself the thought that Rin was intrigued by her.

“Then why did you come tonight?” she continued. Haruka was stoic and silent, thinking about how Rin’s jaw-line was softer than she remembered. She would have to fix that in her sketch. She didn’t answer Rin’s question, not because she didn’t know the answer, but because she was suddenly struck with a flash of stubbornness. Something in her wanted to frustrate Rin. Or frustrate herself. So she kept her lips tight and her eyes on Rin, because there was no reason to look away. Even as Rin stared, unflinchingly, flames flickering in her eyes, right back. Rin smiled. They were being fearless.

“Haru. Haruka,” Rin said. Trying out Haruka’s name like a jacket. “Who was the first person to ever call you Haru?”

“My parents.”

“Besides your parents.”

“Probably...my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend,” Rin repeated. She looked back at the sky and took a smoke. “I see. Did she call you Haru because you reminded her of a spring?”

“You’re the only person who’s ever made that connection, so I don’t think so.”

“You’re kidding. With eyes like that?”

“Maybe not everyone is as observant as you.”

“Not even your girlfriend?”

They locked eyes again.

“She’s observant in some ways. Not in others.”

Rin’s smile was a smile that feigned omniscience, the kind of smile she probably practiced in front of the mirror when she woke up every morning, the kind of smile that made every recipient believe that she could read their mind. Haruka, for a single moment, almost believed it herself. But then she saw straight through the absurd confidence of that smile (not insincere, no, she would’ve walked away if it were insincere), and she was still blown away by it. She’d never seen anybody smile like that. It was gone in a whiff of smoke in the next moment, and their eyes drifted back up to the starless sky.

“You ever draw someone nude?” Rin suddenly asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Plenty of times.”

“You ever model nude?”

“No.”

“Would you consider it?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“I have no reason to.”

“Give back to the community? Make some extra cash?”

“If I model for someone else, it’ll ruin my drawings,” Haruka insisted.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t have a reason. I just know it.”

“You’re weird, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“When I was in that class the other day, taking off my clothes in front of all those people,” Rin continued, “there was something...freeing about it. Like suddenly I didn’t have to worry about what people thought of me, because they weren’t really thinking anything. When someone’s drawing you naked, it’s like _you_ disappear.”

“All that’s left are the little details that create you. But you don’t matter,” Haruka finished.

“Right! Exactly. It was such a weird feeling. Liberating.”

“The little arch that makes your lips. How dark or light to shade your hair. Thickness of eyelashes. Just lines that make up your arms, your legs. Your face isn’t a face anymore, it’s just a combination of scribbles.”

“And how would you draw me?” Rin ventured. Her voice drew Haruka back to her. Haruka would never in a million years admit to this girl, this girl she didn’t know at all, that she had already started trying.

“Just like everybody else,” she replied.

“And would I be beautiful in your drawings?”

Rin was messing with her now, and she welcomed it.

“Everything I draw is beautiful.”

Rin puckered up her lips and let out a smooth, amused whistle. She crushed her half-smoked cigarette on the stone bench, in the space between their thighs.

“I can’t figure you out,” she sighed. “I’m usually so good at reading people, but here you are. An enigma.”

“Why are you trying to figure me out in the first place?”

“Because I never say no to a challenge.”

_I’m a challenge. As much to you, as you are to me?_

Before Haruka could even respond, she felt her phone begin to vibrate in her pocket. She hesitated, despite knowing exactly who was calling, while Rin turned away again. Haruka felt cold.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.  

“No worries.”

Haruka put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Haru. I knocked but you weren’t in your room—everything okay?”

“Yeah. I came to see Nagisa at the bar.”

“Oh. That’s really nice of you.”

Even as Makoto spoke to her, Haruka kept stealing glances at Rin’s calm, upturned face.

“Do you want me to meet you there? My meeting just ended...”

“I’m leaving now, anyway. I’ll just come over.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” a quiet, murmured habit. She hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket, but sat still for a few more moments. Rin was still looking up at the sky, her lips turned up in a thoughtless smile. Her mind could have been anywhere in that endless second.

“Duty calls,” she said.

“Like I said. I don’t like loud places.”

“It’s not loud here.”

Haruka didn’t respond.

“I’m just messing with you. Thanks for hanging out with me,” Rin teased. She stood, put one hand in her pocket, and stretched the other toward Haruka. Still sitting there on the bench. “Until we meet again, Haru with the bright blue eyes.”

“Until then, Rin who likes to be drawn naked.”

They shook hands, as if they’d just completed a business transaction. Haruka stood up. They walked back inside together. Rin saw a friend, sauntered onto the sweaty, crowded dance floor, radiated. Haruka said goodbye to Nagisa (still flirting unabashedly with Rei from behind the bar) and left. Blinded.

 

* * *

 

Haruka was exhausted. She couldn’t seem to find her breath, and by the time she walked into Makoto’s room, her skin was pale and her lips chapped. There was a pounding, over and over, harder and harder, in her chest that made her ache. It didn’t feel like a heartbeat. It felt more like the pounding of her very bones into dust. Her feet weren’t totally balanced on the ground, her knees were flimsy, her fingers on the doorknob weren’t strong enough. She hadn’t had that much to drink. This was something else.

Makoto was sprawled out on her bed, a book in her lap and her reading glasses sliding down her nose. Charming. Picturesque. She’d always loved to read, finding a solace in it that Haruka couldn’t ever hope to understand. The door clicked behind her, and Makoto raised her eyes. The smile spread across her face, a bridge from one end of the earth to the other, and she greeted Haruka in a voice that was dripping with affection and tenderness. Haruka didn’t say a word in response. She just took off her shoes and crawled into bed, into Makoto’s arms, into this space that had molded to fit the shape of her body. She pressed her cheek down against Makoto’s chest, hard enough to hear her heartbeat, and wrapped one arm over Makoto’s stomach and around her waist. All while Makoto put her lips down onto Haruka’s forehead, played with the long, tangled strands of her humidity-immune hair, squeezed so that there was room for both of them in this bed. Haruka let her eyes close and her breathing change to match Makoto’s heartbeat. She was warm. She was safe. She was in love.

She was numb.

She’d been numb for a long time in these arms.

Not unpleasant. Just constant.

And she didn’t know what happiness meant, not well enough to claim to feel it. But this, she said to herself, this must have been the closest to happiness she had ever felt.

Happiness is comfort. Happiness is listening to the love of your life’s heartbeat while they whisper how much they love you into the roots of your hair.

“I love you, Haru.”

“I love you, too.”

Eyes still closed. Breathing still steady. Heart still numb.

Everything consistent. Everything familiar.

Haruka fell asleep.

In love.

_Happy?_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey.”

Rin stumbled into Sousuke’s room, drunk, sad for no reason, restless and too hot. As the door slammed shut, Sousuke turned over the back of her desk chair with her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Rin took off her shoes and threw them into the corner, then rubbed her temples in an attempt to rid herself of the haziness. She couldn’t see Sousuke’s face very clearly—but clearly enough to see that Sousuke was annoyed. She was always so sexy when she was irritated.

“What?” Rin said. Words slurred.

“Kinda late, don’t you think?” Sousuke replied. Crystal clear.

“So?”

“You’re drunk. And you smell like cigarettes.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Babe.”

“You spend all your damn time studying, what else am I supposed to do besides get drunk and dance by myself all night?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Sousuke let out a sigh that was almost loud and heavy enough to make Rin give a shit. She turned her back to Sousuke and began taking off her clothes; they felt restrictive, she was suffocating, and she was thinking incessantly about being naked. Watching a girl with blue eyes and a tired voice draw her body in all its glorious detail. She’d dreamed of it sober, and she was dreaming more of it drunk. Petty and grumpy, Rin tuned out her girlfriend and took off her shirt, her belt, her ripped high-waisted jeans, the bobby pins in her hair, bra and then underwear and the socks last. She stood as tall as she could in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She wanted to look taller than she was. She stretched her legs out and pointed her toes, and turned so she could look down the pale, ridged canvas of her back, dripping down to her heels. Arms over her head, armpits unshaven, hair wild and sweat-riddled. Blinked once, twice, three times because she was thinking about what Haruka had said about thick eyelashes—were hers thick? Her breasts were pretty perfect, that much she could admit to herself drunk or sober, and she cupped them contentedly in her palms.

“Rin.”

Suddenly Sousuke was there behind her, bringing her hands gently down upon her bare, stained-red shoulders. Rin shrugged them off.

“What are you doing?” Sousuke asked. But didn’t try to touch Rin again.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Looks like you’re losing your mind.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Pouting now, she ran her hands down her stomach and her pubic area and her thighs. “I wanna know what I look like when people draw me naked.”

“Beautiful, of course.”

“Stop. How would you know?”

“I just know. There’s no way anybody could draw you as anything but beautiful.”

Sousuke tried again to put her hands on Rin’s shoulders—this time, Rin let her. Her cheek fell down on top of Sousuke’s hand.

“Sou,” Rin whispered. Without really meaning to.

“What’s up?” Sousuke kissed her temple once, twice, three times. Each time warmer than the last.

Rin didn’t say anything after that. Her eyes filled with inexplicable tears and her lips began to quiver, and suddenly she was sniffling and trying desperately not to cry over something so deep inside her she couldn’t even feel it clearly. Without a word, Sousuke grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Rin’s shoulders, until she was covered and warm, and then led her to the bed so she could sit and cry in peace. She curled up, as tightly as she could, and sobbed against Sousuke’s body. Sousuke cradled her. Kissed away her tears, though they kept coming, and Rin couldn’t understand or stop them. She let the emotions drain from her body, until she was tired, shaking, clinging to Sousuke with terrifying desperation.

“I’ve got you,” Sousuke murmured.

“Don’t fucking let go,” Rin replied.

“Never.”

“You really think I’m beautiful?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Sou!”

“Yes. I really think you’re beautiful.”

“Okay.”

“You know what else?”

“What?”

“I’m super in love with you.”

Rin was tired and her head was spinning. She might have said that she loved Sousuke, too. She might not have. She couldn’t remember.

Rin fell asleep.  

Maybe in love.

_Not happy._


	6. just...good?

6

just…good?

The light was falling perfectly. It surrounded them in a bubble of colorful reflections, bouncing off the blades of grass, the rippling water, their bright and tired eyes. Everything was vivid and beautiful. In the middle of the day the sun was high, but it had already been a few hours, so it was starting its long, slow descent to the horizon. Haruka was sitting in the grass, letting the blades lick at her bare legs, sketchbook leaving marks in her lap. She was lucky that she never sunburned easily, because she loved the sun so much and would’ve hated not being able to sit outside for hours and hours and hours on particularly sunny days.

Nagisa and Rei were in front of her, encased in that bubble of perfect light. Like it was falling just for them. Nagisa cross-legged in the grass, messy hair and wide smile and all. Wearing a flowery skirt and a cropped-short yellow tank top. Rei standing just behind her, head turned toward the vast lake marking the center of this campus. Today she had her hair braided and falling down over her shoulder, and was wearing tight white jeans and a tucked-in t-shirt. They were both barefoot, at Haruka’s request. Rei was patient and still—Nagisa was talkative and fidgety. Haruka didn’t mind. She could sketch just fine even if they moved a little bit, and she liked to hear Nagisa talk anyway. The rapid-fire laughter always calmed her crackling nerves. The two of them were beautiful and she was drawing them as beautifully as they appeared before her. Not only to do them justice, but to do herself justice. It was in the middle of a Saturday. In gorgeous weather and beginning-of-the-semester freedom, but they were here, giving their loveliness to her all wrapped in a ribbon of sunlight. What an exercise in shading. What an exercise in capturing happiness Haruka couldn’t see in herself. Self-portraits were never very good practice in versatility.

“You look so focused,” Nagisa pointed out. “I can’t wait to see how it’ll turn out.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Haruka responded, eyes focused on the shape of Nagisa’s legs. This was something she could eventually put in her portfolio. They were that perfect, the two of them, just like that.

_Do Makoto and I look that perfect when we stand together?_

A gust of wind blew by. Nagisa smiled, laughed, to drink it in, and Rei held her hair down to keep it from blowing too hard.

“How does it look so far?” Rei ventured.

“Good.”

“Just…good?”

Haruka paused for a second, to glance up and see Rei looking at her seriously. Haruka wasn’t sure how to respond. How was good not good enough? She didn’t understand the question.

“She doesn’t mean it, Haru-chan,” Nagisa interjected. A mediator who knew both of them and could see the confusion in ways neither of them could. “Rei-chan just has a very specific idea of beauty. Everything needs to be perfect, otherwise it’s ugly.”

“That’s not true,” Rei shot. “I just have high standards.”

“Well, shut up about it. I told you Haru-chan’s the best, all right? Just trust her. You’ll be more beautiful than you ever even imagined in her drawings.”

“No,” Haruka replied. They both looked at her. “I never make things more beautiful. I just draw them as beautiful as they are.”

Nagisa burst into amused laughter, and Rei sighed, exasperated, but said no more about the subject. It seemed she did have some level of trust in Nagisa. Haruka tried to think of something to say to calm her down more—there was more tension in her face now. Haruka didn’t like that. She didn’t want that tension in her sketch.

“If it makes you feel better,” Haruka began, “the reason I don’t make things more beautiful than they are is because I always pick beautiful things in the first place. I have no reason to draw anything I don’t find beautiful. My art is a mirror of reality, not fantasy.”

When there was silence, she looked back up at Rei. She looked taken aback, the tension gone and replaced with rosy blush. Nagisa pursed her lips.

“I told you, Rei-chan. She’s the best.”

In the sweet, sunny silence, Haruka continued sketching.

When Haruka told them she was satisfied, the sun was even lower in the sky, and campus was gathering in the dining halls for dinner, or headed out to the city for the night. The sketch wasn’t completely finished. There were little details like the shading, the wrinkles in their clothing, the way the sun fell, that she would need to keep working on—but from Rei and Nagisa she had everything she needed. It was definitely a portfolio work. Maybe even worth coloring.

“Are you sure that’s it? You don’t need us to come back for a second time, or…?” Rei asked.

“I would definitely love to sketch you again. But for this particular work, no.” Haruka got to her feet, stuffing her sketchbook back into her big over-the-shoulder bag. “Thank you. It was really helpful.”

“When do we get to see the final work?” Nagisa asked. She was standing in a warrior pose, letting her palms fall to the ground, to stretch her aching legs. She was never one to like sitting for long periods of time. Her legs weren’t used to it, and were certainly stiff.

“Let’s say next weekend.”

“Next weekend? That’s so long,” Nagisa pouted.

“No it’s not. You’re just impatient,” Rei said. Nagisa nudged her with her elbow, so Rei nudged her back. Then turned to Haruka. “Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“I promise, you’re doing more for me than I am for you,” Haruka replied.

“Well, if you say so.”

“I am starving. Rei-chan, let’s go out for dinner. My treat,” Nagisa pestered. “There’s that great new Turkish place that opened down the road.”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Rei checked her watch, adjusted her glasses, and looked back up at Haruka. Somehow, her braid was still perfectly in place. Not even a little bit messy, even after standing outside for hours. “Would you like to join us, Haruka?”

“Just Haru.”

“Yeah! Come with us. It’ll be fun,” Nagisa agreed.

“No, thanks. I’m eating with Makoto.”

“Tell her to come, too!”

“Another time.”

“Next weekend. Promise?” Nagisa stuck out her pinky, resolve in her round, sharp eyes. Haruka wrapped her pinky around Nagisa’s. “You can’t back out now, okay? Pinky promises are sacred.”

“I know.”

“See you later, Haru-chan! Thanks again.” Nagisa grabbed Rei’s hand and dragged her away. “If we don’t hurry we’re gonna miss the bus, Rei-chan. Let’s get a move on.”

“Have a nice weekend, Haru!” Rei called.

Then they were gone, and Haruka was alone again on the banks of the lake, as she had been so many times before.

 

* * *

 

Makoto had always liked this hill. The climb always left her a little winded, a little breathless, but the feeling of being at the top was always worth it. You could see almost the entire lake, the library, a few of the old dorms, from the top of that hill. It was a popular spot late at night, when students were trying to escape everything that came with being a student. The grass seemed especially green and the stars always especially bright—sometimes, when Makoto lay on her back and stared up at the endless sky, it seemed close enough to touch. So she would reach her fingers up and stretch, stretch, stretch, until they went as high as they would go, and she would remember that the sky was untouchable. There to be admired, there to inspire, but far away and abstract. Sometimes, the thought of that made her inexplicably sad.

She reached the top of the hill, and took a deep breath. The sun was setting, cut into a half-circle by the horizon. The lights in the library were still on. Probably a few students, the pre-meds and the future senators and governors and presidents, were studying, even on a Friday night. Campus was quiet. It was always quiet on Friday nights, around dinner time. Everyone either eating or heading out or starting their nightly hibernation. She stretched her arms wide like a bird and breathed in the fresh, fresh air. And then she looked down at the lake, and found almost instantly the silhouette of a slender, long-haired girl, the love of her life, sitting like a statue by the water. Smiling now, blushing, overwhelmed with affection, Makoto made her way back down the hill.

Haruka’s Birkenstock sandals were discarded, and her bare feet were stretched out into the water. Lost and ethereal ( _she’s not of this world_ ) she stared out across the water, as if searching for something there on the other side. But with the sadness of knowing there was nothing there. There was that light, that sparkle, always in her eyes, and at this point in their relationship it meant everything and anything to Makoto.

When she heard Makoto’s footsteps, she turned over her shoulder, expression unchanging. Stoicism rippling like the water. Makoto sat down beside her. Leaned over, gave her a chaste kiss to the cheek.

“What are you thinking about?” Makoto asked. She followed Haruka’s gaze.

“Nothing.” She paused. “You.”

Makoto couldn’t take it. She gave her another kiss, and put her arm around her so that Haruka could lay her head on Makoto’s shoulder. She pressed her palm into Haruka’s head, gently, and her hair was like velvet against her sweating skin. Haruka closed her eyes and breathed.

“How was the sketching?”

“Great. They’re beautiful.”

“They’re different, huh?”

Haruka nodded.

“I think Nagisa is in love with Rei,” she said.  

“Yeah?”

Haruka nodded again.

“I can tell by the way she looks at her. More than a crush.”

“I believe you.” Makoto began running her fingers through Haruka’s hair. “Are you going to put them in your portfolio?”

“Yes. And I want to draw them again.”

“I bet they’d love that.”

“Makoto.”

“Hmm?”

“I…”

Her voice drifted, and in the sudden silence, the sudden nothingness, Makoto felt terror. She kept stroking Haruka’s hair.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Haru. I love you so much.”

A kiss to her scalp, deep, trying to reach down and touch whatever was inside, because it was true, because she loved Haruka more than she had ever loved anything and would ever love anything ever again, because she had loved Haruka for her entire life and could think of nothing she wanted more than to hold her be with her love her make her feel safe because so often she felt unsafe—Makoto wanted to be safety to her. She loved her. As much, no, more, than she loved herself, and that was something that would never change, even as the stars shifted and the moon phases came and went and the world twirled on its axis and everything, everything, everything else changed.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” she whispered into Haruka’s hair. Haruka nodded. She got Haruka’s shoes, helped her stand, watched her slip back into them, and then together they made their way back to their dorm to order in some food and bury themselves beneath the covers.

And as they ate fried rice and crab rangoons with cheap chopsticks, they streamed _Friends_ and snuggled under a single blanket together. Haruka was, predictably, the type of person who could watch and rewatch and rewatch the same things as many times as she wanted without getting bored. Quite the opposite, it gave her a sense of comfort to return to something familiar. It was one of those traits about her that Makoto was intimate with. They had watched the entire show more times than Makoto could count. It was the episode where Rachel convinces Ross’s girlfriend to shave her head.

They ate mostly in silence, because they didn’t need anything to fill it anymore, and Makoto was happy. She could feel the warmth radiating off Haruka’s body, and could sit and watch the different ways that her face contorted in response to what she saw on the screen. It was riveting. Most of the time her reactions weren’t even noticeable. But sometimes she would blink a bit more than usual, purse her lips for a second, crinkle her nose, twirl a piece of hair around her finger slowly and monotonously. Makoto took pride in being one of the only people in the world who could notice them. What kind of lover would she be if, after all this time, she didn’t know Haruka better than Haruka knew herself? She, at least, was convinced that Haruka knew her better than Makoto knew herself.

After they were finished eating, they stuck gum in their mouths and watched one more episode. When the credits started playing, Makoto turned it off, put her hands on Haruka’s cheeks, and kissed her. Haruka opened her mouth for Makoto, let her hands rest on Makoto’s wrists, and let her eyes flutter closed. When would this ever get old, Makoto wondered, as she drank in the taste of Haruka’s lips and felt her skin come alive beneath Makoto’s fingers. She kissed her in the ways she knew and the ways that Haruka knew, until Haruka had her arms wrapped around her neck and had pushed her back, back, against the bed, straddled her, buried her fingers in Makoto’s hair and undid the ponytail.

“Mm…Haru,” Makoto groaned, pushing her groin up against Haruka’s. She leaned her head over the bed as Haruka kissed her cheek, down to her jaw line, down to her neck, where she pushed her tongue down and Makoto felt intense, warm pleasure pulse through her body. She forced Haruka’s fingers to interlock with hers.

But, as Makoto pushed her hands under Haruka’s shirt and up to her breasts, Haruka stopped kissing her. Makoto froze.

“Haru?”

She withdrew her hands immediately and put them, instead, on Haruka’s cheeks. And as if she were exhausted, Haruka leaned her forehead down against Makoto’s—they were surrounded by the curtain of her hair. Haruka’s eyes were closed. Cheeks red. Lips glistening.

“Haru, what’s wrong?” Makoto stroked her cheeks and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you tired? Do you want to just go to bed?”

Haruka shook her head, but was still silent. Makoto gazed up at her. In moments like this, Haruka usually needed silence, time to organize her thoughts, before she said anything more.

Finally, she said something.

“Can we go for a walk?”

“Sure. Yeah. A walk sounds nice.”

They came down from their lustful highs, put their shoes on, and went out for a walk.

They didn’t hold hands (they never felt the need to, it was part of loving consistently), but when Makoto put a hand in her pocket, Haruka slipped her arm through hers. Haruka was silent for almost the entire walk, and Makoto found herself humming a song that had been stuck in her head all day. “Ivy.” Frank Ocean.

_I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me._

“Makoto.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we go this way?” She gestured toward the path that ran around the back of the on-campus bar and up to the woods.

“Whatever you want.”

They went that way.

Makoto kept humming. She liked that Haruka had suggested a walk—the weather was beautiful, and who knew how many beautiful, warm nights they had left before the cold took over?   

They arrived at the back of the on-campus bar. Inside was a riot. The dance floor was crowded, the music blaring, students pushing and shoving in attempts to get to the front of the bar before last call. Nagisa wasn’t working that night, but as Makoto swiftly scoured the scene through the windows, she caught a glimpse of that bright yellow hair—on the dance floor. Dancing with Rei Ryugazaki. She smiled to herself. The patio they were walking through was filled with people, as well. There was a bonfire lit, students sitting on the stone benches, smoking weed and cigarettes, drinking from communal beer bottles, sitting on each other’s laps and telling scary stories and even scarier secrets. Makoto wasn’t a huge fan of the smells, but she liked the vibes. The atmosphere. The school was a home, this bar even more so.

But Haruka had never asked to come this way before.

“Can we sit down for a bit?” Haruka gestured toward one of the empty stone benches around the fire pit. They sat, and Haruka held Makoto’s arm and leaned her head down on her shoulder. They stared into the flames and let the warmth wash over them in waves. It wasn’t quiet out here, but it wasn’t loud, either.

At least, until a few minutes later, when a couple in the middle of a raging argument stormed out from the bar and into this peaceful place. Everyone turned to look at them.

“Just get off my back for five fucking seconds, all right? I don’t need you to hold my damn hand!”

The girl screaming was one Makoto recognized, if only because she had come up in conversation recently—Rin Matsuoka, at the top of the social hierarchy, and shitfaced. The girl rushing after was Sousuke Yamazaki, a girl Makoto had met a handful of times through mutual friends. Sousuke seemed a bit drunk, too, stumbling, face red, but not nearly as much as Rin.

“Rin, could you slow down, please?” she called. She reached out and grabbed Rin’s hand, but Rin ripped it out and whipped around to face her. She could barely stand straight.

“I’m so _sick_ of you! You’re like a puppy!” she screamed. Sousuke looked exasperated and exhausted. Makoto felt the secondhand-embarrassment—did either of them even notice that at least ten people were watching them? Haruka’s head was still steady on her shoulder.

“Come on, Rin.”

“You’re such an asshole! You think…you think just because…you’re so _smart_ and _mature_ …you think you know more than me. You think you can _boss_ me around! You think you can treat me like a _baby_! You think you can just…follow me around and beg for treats!”

“I just think you’ve had a lot—”

“Well maybe you’re _wrong_. Huh? Ever…ever think of that? Sometimes _I’m_ right!”

Rin was over-the-top. Flailing her arms dramatically, pouting like a child even as she demanded she be treated like an adult.

“I just…I know you. That’s all.”

“There you _ffffucking_ go again with the whole ‘I know you’ shtick. It doesn’t mean you can _boss_ me around!”

“Rin—” Sousuke tried again to grab Rin’s hand, but Rin wouldn’t let her. She turned on her heel and stormed off down the path to the dorms. Sousuke turned her face to the sky, ran a hand over her face, let out a deep and tired sigh. Then she ran after Rin.

Everyone was silent for a few moments, and then fell back into rhythm. Makoto turned back to the flames.

Only when they were gone did Haruka bring her head up and turn around to look back down the path Rin had gone down. 


	7. why me, then?

7

why me, then?

        Almost an entire week went by before Haruka Nanase and Rin Matsuoka saw each other again.

        It was a long, dry week.

        The last image Haruka had in her head of Rin Matsuoka was that of a stumbling, belligerent drunk fighting off a caring girlfriend and running off melodramatically into the night. She had looked sweaty, she had been pouting like a toddler, she had been fucking beautiful and childish and fiery. She hadn’t even noticed Haruka in her angry drunken haze, and Haruka hadn’t minded. She’d been curled up on the arm of her lover, and Rin had burst into flames in front of her. She had found it much easier to finish a rough sketch after that. Makoto hadn’t said anything to Haruka about the embarrassing fight they’d seen, so Haruka didn’t say anything to Makoto about it. They both acted as if they hadn’t seen anything. Because it was irrelevant. Because it had nothing to do with their lives, and they weren’t the type to gossip. So it had come and gone and maybe been nothing but a fleeting firework in Makoto’s mind—Haruka was still reeling from the heat. She felt voyeuristic. It was thrilling and frustrating.

        The week went by uneventfully. For any moment that Haruka wasn’t in class or taking walks with Makoto through the wooded paths on campus, she was working on her two sketches: one of Rin and one of Rei and Nagisa, this one with a deadline. She’d promised dinner and a sketch to them both on Friday, and as a part of her portfolio, she dedicated as much focus as she could to it. Hunched over, curved like a question mark, to get the details of the shading just right, the lines softer, the…colors? Yes, colors, she would color, but minimally. She liked to leave some of the beauty to the imagination of the viewers because she trusted that imagination to create things even she couldn’t see. She considered inking it, but then decided against it—Rei and Nagisa were soft and the ink would’ve made them harder.

        The other sketch was of Rin Matsuoka. She had managed to remember the details as well as she could but, despite herself, had snuck onto Facebook to make sure she had everything perfect.

        It was an overdramatic sketch. Just Rin’s face, with that exact smile she had given Haruka the first time they’d met. When she had apologized and asked what Haruka was drawing. Hair falling slightly into her face, stars in her eyes, mischief and radiance and meaningless contagious excitement in every tiny detail. This one, Haruka did ink. Because Rin was hard and dramatic. She didn’t color it. Just inked it. Shaded it deftly. It was another versatile and perfect addition to her portfolio, especially compared to the full-bodied, soft sketch of Nagisa and Rei.

        Sometimes, when she was sketching, at her desk or in the quad or maybe on the banks of the lake, Makoto would come up behind her. Kiss the top of her head. Play with her hair, massage her shoulders, whisper stories about her day into her ear. If, of course, Haruka didn’t have her headphones in. Makoto’s breath was always warm and comforting, her hands soft, her kisses like little butterflies dancing on Haruka’s skin.

        The sketch of Rin turned out to be unbelievably realistic, and perhaps the best realistic ink drawing Haruka had ever done. If not her best drawing, period.

        When Friday rolled around, Haruka made copies of her completed sketch of Rei and Nagisa and put them into her big bag (she always kept the originals for herself) and asked Makoto to do her makeup. They were going together.

        “They’re going to love the sketch. It turned out great,” Makoto mused as she brushed Haruka’s cheeks. Haruka smiled.

        “I think so, too. I’m happy with it.”

        “You’ve been working on it almost non-stop.”

        “It was worth it, right?”

        “As long as you’re happy, Haru.” She paused, just to kiss Haruka’s bare forehead. Then she continued with the mascara. “As long as you’re happy.”

        “Of course I’m happy.”

        “Then I want for nothing.”

        Makoto grinned and chuckled, as if she’d made a joke, a sincere, heartfelt, affectionate joke. Intimate. Haruka didn’t like wearing mascara, but she didn’t mind the feeling of Makoto swiping up her eyelashes.

        They caught the bus out to the city to meet Nagisa and Rei (they were already running around out there) for dinner at Nagisa’s favorite sushi restaurant, and Haruka fell asleep against Makoto’s shoulder, because she had stayed up late almost every night of the week working on the sketches. Makoto woke her up, gently, when they arrived at their stop, and they walked the ten minutes in the end-of-summer heat to the restaurant. Rei and Nagisa were sitting at a booth, across from each other. Staring as if they’d found lost treasure in some dark, watery cove after years of searching.  

        They both stood up when they saw Makoto and Haruka arrive, they all exchanged hugs and Nagisa planted her slobbery kisses on their cheeks, before they sat down. Haruka next to Rei, Makoto next to Nagisa. Nagisa had already taken the liberty of ordering appetizers.

        Only after the appetizers had arrived did Haruka decide to give them each their copy of the sketch, because she could tell that they were both impatient, but trying to be polite and hold their tongues. They were rolled up into little tubes and, without a word, she withdrew them from her bag and handed one to Rei, one to Nagisa. Nagisa didn’t even say thank you before she started whipping it out.

        “Can I open it?” Rei asked.

        “Of course.”

        Haruka glanced over at Makoto to catch her soft, knowing smile.

        “Holy shit, Haru-chan,” Nagisa breathed.

        “Oh my god.” Rei held out the straightened sketch and stared at it, wide-eyed, blushing like a rose. They both had similar expressions of awe on their faces—Haruka was amused.

        “What did I tell you, Rei-chan?”

        “You were right. This is breathtaking,” Rei replied. Then, finally, she turned back to Haruka. “You’re brilliant. I can’t thank you enough.”

        “It’ll be great for my portfolio. I didn’t have to go out of my way.”

        “Well, if you ever want to sketch us again, let us know,” Nagisa chimed. “But you should know that I’m going to start charging.”  

        Makoto nudged her with her elbow.

        “You’re going to be famous one day.” Rei wasn’t even talking to Haruka at that point. Just thinking out loud.

        Haruka smiled, they all smiled, and as the night went on and they stuffed their faces with sushi, she allowed herself the luxury of letting her mind wander into that space. She wanted to be finishing her other sketch.

        She fell asleep again on the bus ride back. Nagisa and Rei had invited them out onto the town (“We have fake IDs, don’t worry!”) but Haruka had claimed exhaustion and here they were, back on the bus to campus. She was dreaming of seeing her art in galleries now—seeing every sketch she had ever completed hanging up, prices attached, as people of all walks of life strolled through clean halls and white labyrinthine walls just to see the famous Haruka Nanase’s work.

        When they stepped off the bus to make their way back to the dorm, hand-in-hand, the sun was just starting to set. Haruka planned on immediately getting into bed—she suddenly felt exhausted, worn from daydreaming and seeing flashes of red behind her wide-awake eyes. When she was asleep, usually, she didn’t see Rin Matsuoka’s face. Tomorrow, she told herself, she would sketch Makoto. In a beautiful nude pose, to remind herself of reality. Because Rin was a dream. Makoto was reality.

        “Oh. Makoto. What’s up?”

        Haruka found herself coming to a jarring halt as Makoto stopped in her tracks. There in front of them was the tall, muscular girl that they’d seen the other night, fighting with Rin outside of the bar. Sousuke Yamazaki. She seemed taller up close, and her face was cold. But then she smiled a bit, and the ice cracked.

        “Sousuke! It’s been a while. How’s your semester going?”

        “You know. I’m taking the MCAT in a few months, so that’s driving me crazy.”

        “That’s so impressive. Good luck. Not that you need it, I’m sure,” Makoto smiled. “Oh, have you two met? This is my girlfriend, Haruka.”

        “Nice to meet you. I’m Sousuke.”

        They shook hands. Haruka didn’t say anything, and barely even smiled. She felt as if Sousuke were staring straight down into her stomach and to the soles of her feet, so that she could see everything happening there inside. It terrified her into silence even deeper than usual. This was the girl Rin Matsuoka loved? She could hardly look her in the eyes.

        “Hey, maybe when you’re less busy we should catch up. Grab lunch or something,” Makoto suggested. Sousuke, in her casual tracksuit, crossed her arms and nodded.

        “Yeah, absolutely. I’m sure I could make the time to catch up—just shoot me a text or something.”

        “Okay. We’re gonna head back. Nice to see you. Tell Rin I said hi.”

        “Yeah, if she’s not drunk off her ass again. Night.”

        And they parted, walking in opposite directions, Haruka shaken and even more exhausted than before.

 

* * *

 

        She fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed, and Makoto didn’t even pester her to brush her teeth.

        _Red hair, transformed into black ink and immaculate shading._

_A smile with the power to redefine love—or insanity._

_Stars realigning in eyes hidden beneath curtains of stray bangs and eyelashes._

_I don’t even know you at all and you’re changing everything._

 

* * *

 

        When Sousuke walked into Rin’s room, she was in bed, scrolling through the endless photographs on her computer with a beer and a half-finished pizza beside her. She didn’t move her eyes from the screen when she said hello, because she was focused entirely on these photos. One moment of distraction could ruin everything. Sousuke was a familiar and comfortable presence, she didn’t even feel the need to bestow upon her any special attention. Sousuke sat down on the bed across from her and grabbed a piece of pizza.

        “How’s it going?”

        “Shitty. Suddenly all my photographs look horrible.”

        “Maybe you just suck?”

        “Maybe you just go fuck yourself.”

        She tried to pinpoint what exactly was wrong with each photo, and found herself each time reverting to an image in her mind so much more beautiful in comparison--it made these photos look dull and colorless. Blue eyes. _Blue eyes._ Nobody had eyes that were so blue like that. Sousuke’s were beautiful and green but _that wasn’t the same._

        When had she first decided that she loved Sousuke?

        When Sousuke said “I love you” for the first time?

        Did that make sense?

        She slammed her laptop shut and shoved another piece of pizza into her mouth.  

 

* * *

 

        Her eyes opened, slowly, adjusting to the milky light. She and Makoto had both forgotten to close the blinds before falling asleep. Makoto had slept in bed with her. It couldn’t have been later than 5:30am. She perched herself on her elbow and stared into the emptiness of her room for a few moments—the sketchbook on her desk was closed. Everything was neat, orderly, especially her drawing pencils and pens and colors, and her closet was closed and there was a blue carpet on the ground that Makoto had encouraged her to buy, to add color to an otherwise plaster-blank room. It all seemed surreal to her in that moment, bathed in rainbow speckles of early morning and the haziness of just waking up. Quietly and slowly, Haruka got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

        She washed her face, brushed her teeth, ran a hairbrush through her hair until the tangles were gone and it was shimmering like oil. She checked the weather on her phone—it was a bit chilly at the moment. She put on shorts, her Birkenstocks, and a baggy, oversized green sweater that was probably Makoto’s. She stuffed her sketchbook into her bag and, practically on her tiptoes, left Makoto asleep in the room. The lake was calling out to her in a way she’d never heard it call before.

        The grass was still wet when she sat down on it, kicking off her shoes. She stretched her bare legs out and watched her toes wiggle. The grass kissed her skin and the misty air sent chills and goosebumps up her spine. Before she started sketching, she decided, she wanted to spend a bit of time drinking everything in and separating reality from dreams. Maybe blurring the line between them. She needed to feel as if she _were somewhere_ and that somewhere, in that moment, was this lake.

        “When I graduate, and become famous and rich, I’m going to donate a lot of money to this school, and force them to plant cherry blossom trees on the banks of the lake so that in the spring, it’s pink as far as the eye can see.”

 

* * *

 

        Haruka didn’t jump.

        It was as if she had known.

 

* * *

 

        Rin sat down beside her in the grass, a large, professional-looking camera around her neck. She was wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. It looked a size too big on her.

        “You like cherry blossoms,” Haruka observed.

        “A lot.”

        “Do you always wake up early and come sit by the lake?”

        “No. Do you?”

        “No. Just today, something drew me here.”

        “Yeah. Just today.”  

        They looked at each other. Both covered in sun-soaked fog.

        “Would you do me a favor?” Rin asked quietly. Haruka blinked. “Don’t move.”

        She took the lens off the camera and brought it up to her eye. Adjusted a few settings, moved her neck in strange ways, and then, as Haruka stayed perfectly still, snapped a few photos. No flash. Haruka was officially immortal.

“I wanted a photo the night we talked at the bar, but I didn’t have my camera and the lighting wasn’t great.”

        “I probably look tired right now,” Haruka said.

        “You look perfect. Why would you say that?”

        “Because I feel tired.”

        “Yeah?”

        Rin pulled up the photos she had just taken on her camera, and showed them to Haruka. Haruka had never seen herself looking like that. They turned back to the lake. Their shoulders were brushing.

        “What will you do with those photos?”

        “I don’t know.”

        “You need my permission to put them on display or anything.”

        “And what makes you think I’d want to put you on display?”

        “You don’t?”

        Rin, for the first time that Haruka could remember, didn’t have a response. They sat in the silence for a little bit longer.

        “We don’t know each other at all, right?” Rin finally said.

        “…Right.”   

        “So why do I feel like we do? Why do I feel like I know you? Like we’ve met somewhere before.”

        “Another life, maybe.”

        “You believe in reincarnations?”

        “I don’t really believe in anything.”

        “Everybody believes in something.”

        “I believe in what I see.”

        “I believe in what I feel.”

        “Can I show you something?” Haruka asked. The question came out of her lips before she could control it. Rin nodded, leaning her hands back against the grass. Haruka, maintaining her stoicism with effortlessness, pulled out her sketchbook and flipped to the last used page. Then she handed it to Rin.

 

* * *

 

        She stared at the sketch for years, as if instead of seeing herself she was seeing an alien. Unblinking, dripping in ink and scribbles and overly-detailed lips. She held it in her hands and it shook. Just a bit. The tiniest of earthquakes. Then she ran a finger along the sharp lines of her pitch-black-thick eyelashes and thought, are they really that thick? She looked in the mirror everyday, narcissist that she was, and she’d never seen them so thick. Not even with mascara on. That didn’t seem fair to either of them.

        “When did you do this?”

        “As soon as I saw you for the first time.”

        “You’re joking.”

        Haruka didn’t look like she was joking, not with her eyes like smooth cold stones and her lips as still as ice. She was as serious as could be and had ever been. Because this meant something uncomfortable to her, and she hadn’t felt that in five years.

        She believed in what she felt, too.

 

* * *

 

        “We’re looking for something new to know,” Haruka murmured.

        “Hmm?”

        “It’s why we feel like we know each other more than we do. We’re looking for something new to know.”

 

* * *

 

_Loving the same person for as long as you remember means becoming familiar, numb, and confused about what happiness means. Loving the same person each day, being loved by the same person each day, means knowing someone so well that there’s no excitement in the kisses anymore and you find yourself wondering when that excitement disappeared, because at the beginning everything is exciting, and what does it mean when the threshold is reached? When everything is familiar instead? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? You’re supposed to be comfortable in love you’re supposed to know exactly what your lover is thinking. You know everything. You’re confused about what happiness means and feels and now, you can’t tell what you’re feeling._

 

* * *

 

        “I don’t think that’s true.” Rin was still running her fingers along the outlines of her sketched, infinite face, not looking at Haruka. “It could be anyone in that case. But I don’t think I’d know anyone.”

        “Why me, then?”

        “Because I like your eyes, Haruka, and the way everything you say is a burden. Like just opening your mouth is exhausting.” She looked up into those blue, blue eyes. “Or maybe because someone put you in front of me at the right moment.”

        “And why you?” Haruka was looking for answers in nothingness. Rin shrugged.

        “Maybe because we’re both in love,” she mused.

        “You’re in love with Sousuke?”

 

* * *

 

_What do you do when you think you love someone, you feel happy around them and comfortable around them, but suddenly you think maybe you love them because they love you? And you see someone else and imagine yourself in their arms. What kind of love is that? You love her, you know you do, she treats you too well--maybe that’s the problem? Maybe you need someone to chase. Maybe you need someone who makes you feel fire inside; and this person you love, she doesn’t make you feel fire, she makes you feel lukewarm. You don’t like lukewarm. Now you’re confused about what love means, if it’s supposed to be comfortable if you’re uneasy, you’re confused about what happiness means and feels and now, you can’t tell what you’re feeling._

 

* * *

 

        “I think so. You’re in love with Makoto?”

        “Yes. I know so.”

        “See. We’re both in love.”

        “We’re both happy.”

        “Exactly. That’s it.” Rin closed the sketchbook, put it in the grass, without taking her eyes off Haruka’s. “We’re both happy.”

        She leaned forward, inched her hands in the grass until the tips of her fingers were sitting softly on Haruka’s. A breeze blew by. Everything was golden and chilly and wrapped in blurs. Rin’s lips shimmered like diamonds and Haruka’s entire body shivered.

        “We’re both happy and we both want to fuck it up,” Rin whispered. She stopped, when her lips were a breath away. “I’ve finally figured you out.”

        “I don’t think so. You’ve barely figured yourself out.”

        “And have _you_ figured me out?”

        “Absolutely not.”

 

* * *

 

        They kissed.

        Everything fell to pieces.  


	8. do you want to see me again?

8

do you want to see me again?

They tasted something in each other’s lips that they had never tasted on the lips of their other lovers. In that moment they truly felt that they had been presented to each other by some puppeteering, maniacal higher power that wanted to invade the comfortable privacy of their love lives. Neither of them believed in love at first sight, but somehow, here they were. On the banks of the lake, kissing as the sun rose. They had seen art in each other the first time their eyes had met. One stuck in the other’s mind like a virus, eating away at everything they felt was normal and right and making them dream of something different. They had no reason to want anything (or anybody) else.

Their contentment was coveted to everyone but them.

_Why would you do this when you’re so happy?_

They didn’t know how to answer that question, the one they were both asking themselves, because they didn’t even know happiness to begin with. There was no one definition, right? So how could they claim to be happy when they hadn’t known anything else? For Haruka, this was a new and exciting experience with someone she connected with in ways she had never connected with Makoto. There was a spark between their lips. She had been overwhelmed with thoughts of Makoto before, but not the way she’d been overwhelmed with thoughts of Rin these past few weeks. With fireworks and heat and twisted, exhausting daydreams.

And for Rin, this was the first time she had felt such magnetism. How many times in her life had she seen someone, wanted to fuck them, and made it happen? It had happened with Sousuke, too. They’d been friends, they’d fucked, and suddenly there was Sousuke, confessing her love—and making Rin _feel_ it. But that wasn’t what happened with Haruka. She’d seen her and questioned whether someone like that was an actual human being, whether a person could make her feel deep longing. Like the longing of a person who had been searching years and years for someone. Haruka was her someone, and she hardly knew her.

They didn’t know each other at all, really.

And they knew it.

_They just wanted each other desperately anyway._

 

* * *

 

Rin was the one to pull away. And as her lips left Haruka’s, Haruka found herself leaning forward to follow them, eyes still closed, everything tingling like static. The kiss was electric—not like anything she’d ever felt before.

(Not that she had much experience. The only person she’d really ever kissed was Makoto to begin with.)

She was afraid to open her eyes. She only dared do it when she felt Rin’s fingers, cold and smooth, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. They fluttered open, and Rin’s face, real, not a dream anymore, was there in front of her. She was smiling, and—were Haruka’s eyes playing tricks on her?—there were glistening, rainbow tears in her eyes. They were confusing.

“Fuck,” Rin breathed. Fingers still on Haruka’s skin. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

“What was your first thought?” Haruka replied. “Photograph her, or kiss her?”

“Kiss her.”

“You’re lying.”

“And if I am?”

Haruka finally smiled back. And, taking it as her cue, Rin leaned forward and kissed her again. There was the static again—Haruka was afraid that it would have faded by the second kiss. But it was even more electric, even brighter behind her closed eyelids. This time, Haruka was the one to pull away.

“Wait,” she breathed. “Someone’s going to see.”

“It’s 6am on a Saturday.”

Haruka didn’t dignify the retort with a response. She just stared, blankly, while Rin blinked away the strange tears and kept smiling that goofy, charming smile.

“Up for a little walk, then?”

She hopped to her feet, and Haruka couldn’t help but notice how weirdly clean her white Vans were. She grabbed her sketchbook, put it in her bag, and took Rin’s hand to help her up. She slipped back into her own shoes, and as Rin started walking away, pulling Haruka behind her, Haruka took her hand out of hers. Rin kept moving, but turned over her shoulder to flash a reassuring, it’s-okay-I-get-it smile. Somehow, Haruka knew nobody would see them, but she was nervous anyway. So she didn’t let Rin hold her hand.

Her bag hanging over her shoulder, Haruka walked about a step behind Rin. Rin’s stride was confident and energetic, her posture relaxed with her hands in her pockets and her face turned up to the sky even as she walked forward. Haruka was small and shadowed in comparison, even though they were both walking in dewy sunlight. They were walking up a wooded path along the edge of the lake. It was a popular path for runners, the kind who ran in rain or shine, hot or cold, and liked to have the beauty of the lake beside them as their lungs burned. Haruka liked watching Rin walk in front of her—she was working hard to memorize the shape of her shoulders. The way her scapula pushed out of her back like mountains, the valley of her lower back even through the big hoodie, the defined muscles on the back of her arms. All outlined in gold from the sunlight.

The path was surrounded on either side by trees, all lush and green. They cast shadows down on them like a gift. The more they walked, the more relaxed Haruka got. She let herself take pleasure in this moment, she let the nerves wash off her, she let her gaze wander from Rin and to the lake and its infinite array of colors and back to Rin. Everything was a bit more beautiful this early in the morning. A runner passed by, in leggings and a tank top. She smiled at them. Rin waved.  

Finally they arrived at a stretch of the path marked by little wooden docks, large enough to fit maybe two people. There were about five, spread out beside each other to give better views of the lake. The urban myth on campus was that if you walked around the lake three times with your lover, you would marry them, and there had been countless proposals on these docks. Sometimes you could see swans.

They walked onto one of the docks. Rin went to the edge, sat down, let her legs hang over the edge. It wasn’t close enough to touch the water. Haruka sat down beside her and imitated her position. Rin leaned her chin on the wooden railing.

“I’ve never been here so early in the morning,” Rin said. “Weird how peaceful it is. The water’s barely even rippling.”

She was kicking her legs back and forth. Haruka found herself mesmerized and silenced by the crystalline waters.

“Do you just draw people? Or landscapes too? Would you draw this lake?”

“Just people,” Haruka replied absentmindedly.

“Really? That’s it? You would never even try drawing anything else?”

“No, never. I only draw people.”

“How come?”

“I find people the most beautiful. And I’m the best at drawing people. Why would I bother with anything else?”

“Build your repertoire and your skills, maybe?”

“What’s wrong with just focusing on the one thing I’m really good at?”

“You’re such a character,” Rin laughed.

“Do you only photograph people?”

“I mean, I photograph people more than I photograph other things, but I’ll take photos of anything and make it look good.”

“At least you’re confident.”

“Well, so are you.”

“What’s the point in drawing people if I’m not confident?”

Rin smiled and leaned her cheek on her arms, so that it was flat on the rail and she was looking straight at Haruka. Haruka met her eyes.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Rin murmured.

“Take another photo. It’ll last longer.”

Rin opened her camera and snapped another photo.

“Maybe one of these days, I’ll get one of you actually smiling, ice queen,” she teased.

“One of these days?”

“Sorry. Moving too fast?”

Haruka didn’t say anything. She was afraid of moving at all. She stared out at the lake and tried counting the trees on the other side.

“How long did that sketch take you? The one of me?”

“Week and a half.”

“It’s…it’s good.” Rin kept her eyes firmly on Haruka’s face. “Do you have your phone with you?”

Haruka took her phone out of her bag and put it into Rin’s outstretched hand. She started typing rapidly onto it, letting it hang over the lake precariously. After about a minute, she handed it back to Haruka.

“There. Now you have my number, and I have yours.”

“Thanks.”

The next silence was awkward and tense. They were breaching uncharted territory with uncharted people.

“Can I ask you something?” Rin began.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to kiss you again? You can say no.”

Haruka hesitated for a bit, before she said, “Yes.”

So they leaned in toward each other and kissed for the third time. Even now, even when Haruka was expecting it, even when the novelty had worn off a bit, it was wildly draining. They kissed for longer this time. Tasted more of each other. And this time, Rin put her hands on either side of Haruka’s neck, gentle, tender. As if to guide her through this experience. Haruka had her hands flat on the dock to keep her balance as she leaned forward.

“Look at those pretty blue eyes…”

Rin pulled away and kissed both of Haruka’s closed eyes, as if they’d been lovers for years. As if they didn’t just barely know each other. Then she opened her eyes, just for Rin. They kissed again, but with their eyes open.

“Will you draw another sketch of me?”

“I was going to do it whether you wanted me to or not.”

“Can you do it nude?”

“Tell me when and where.”

“Right here and now.”

Haruka pulled back, startled. Rin was still smiling, blushing like a middle schooler.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes. Right now. Come on, we’ve got at least a few hours.”

“Hold on…”

As Haruka’s voice trailed off, Rin scrambled to her feet with just a bit of clumsiness, and started stripping. Starting with her shoes, then the too-large hoodie, then the white t-shirt underneath, then the baggy sweatpants with the cinched ankles. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so all that was left after that were her cute black panties. Haruka was stunned, mouth pressed tightly closed, as she searched for the voice to tell Rin to stop. And suddenly there she was, naked as the day she was born, standing in front of Haruka gloriously and confidently. Like she was offering herself up.

_And god, she is perfect._

Built like a Greek goddess.

Even as her brain begged her to tell Rin to put her clothes back on, she was pulling her sketchbook out.

“How do you want me?”

She thought for a moment.

“Lean back against the railing—there, across from me.”

“And my legs?”

Haruka stared at those legs. She knew how she wanted them, but she was afraid to ask for it. It seemed…invasive, somehow.

“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Rin smiled. “I’m doing this because I want you to see me.”

“Sit cross-legged.”

Without hesitating for even a second, Rin sat cross-legged, opening everything up in between her legs for Haruka to see. An entire garden there.

“And my arms?”

“Up, over your head. I’ll draw your arms first so your shoulders don’t get sore.”

“Take your time. I can handle it.”

Sitting directly across from her, Haruka bent her legs and put her sketchbook against her thighs. She tapped her pencil on the blank page a few times.

“Bite your lip for me.”

“Whatever you want, darling.”

She batted her eyelashes and bit down on her lip. Haruka felt a tingle, deep in her stomach, and she took a deep breath before she started sketching. She entered that zone of focus and could hardly breathe as she did.   

Haruka started to sketch.

Rin looked comfortable and content. Haruka kept focused, to get every single detail right.

“So. Haruka Nanase. Tell me about this girlfriend of yours.”

“Are you sure you want to hear about my girlfriend? While I draw you nude?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Twisted exchange.”

“Well?”

“It’s Makoto Tachibana.”

“I know her. Pretty. Sweet as a chocolate cake.”

“We’ve been together for five years now. Six next February.”

“How did you meet?”

“We grew up together. She’s been my best friend as long as I can remember.”

“So who fell first?”

“I don’t know. We kind of fell together. It seemed natural.”

“Not surprising, if you were friends that long.”   

“Yeah.”

“Are you still falling, then?”

Haruka looked up from the sketch.

“Stop talking, I’m doing the outline of your face.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She focused on the sketch in silence for a few minutes, and then the tension broke.

“Wanna hear about my girlfriend now?”

“Sousuke Yamazaki,” Haruka replied.

“Yeah. You know her?”

“Makoto does.”

She decided to leave out that they’d seen them fighting the other night—odds were that Rin didn’t remember it at all.

“Wanna hear how we met?”

“Yes. You can put your arms down.”

“We actually went to the same middle school, way back when. But she moved away for high school and, somehow, we found each other again here. Instant best friend. Then one drunken night I seduce her, we fuck, and the next day she tells me she loves me.”

“She fell first.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have fucked my best friend, especially since I kind of suspected she liked me, but I’m not good at following reason.”

“I figured.”

“But then I fell in love with her, too.”

“Later.”

“Yeah.”

“Put your arms back up.”

“How do I look so far?”

“Full of yourself.”

“Perfect.”

Haruka snuck her a smile the next time she looked up from her sketch.

She drew the garden between Rin’s legs and could practically taste it. Every bit of skin she sketched, she could feel on her tongue and in the palm of her hands. The day was getting hotter and hotter and she couldn’t bear it. Not because of the weather. Because of this girl giving herself to Haruka, so willingly, almost desperate.

“How long does this usually take?”

“Bored already?”

“Just…hot.”

“Mhmm.”  

“Is that a ‘mhmm’ you are hot, or a ‘mhmm’ shut up?”

“The latter.”

Rin laughed. It must have echoed across the entire lake.

They sat for at least another hour, as Haruka sketched and Rin sat across from her, being sketched. On the fence between dreams and reality, right and wrong, love and whatever wasn’t love.

After a few people walked by and Rin had to grab the hoodie to try and cover herself, they figured it was about time to cut the appointment short. Haruka added a few last-minute details as Rin put her clothes back on, same order she took them off. Panties, t-shirt, sweatpants, too-large hoodie, shoes. Then, on second-thought, she took the hoodie off. Stretched her arms up, got all the way onto her tiptoes. She reached her hands out, pulled Haruka to her feet, with such strength that Haruka did a little hop.

“How long until that sketch is done?”

“A few days.”

“A few days?”

“Sure.”

“Fast worker.”

“When I want to be.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not,” Rin said.

“Take it however you want.”

“Before we go back, can I…?”

Haruka leaned forward, before Rin could even finish the question, and kissed her first. Because she knew the question Rin was going to ask, and she would have said yes without hesitation. Rin pulled Haruka against her, hands on her hips, standing just a bit taller. When they pulled apart, Rin stayed close, lips practically on Haruka’s forehead.

“When can I see you again?” she asked, voice at a whisper.

“You have my phone number. Text me whenever you want to see me.”

“Gonna make me chase, huh?”

“You seem more confident than me with this sort of thing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Even if I wanted to see you, I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to say so.”

“Okay.” Rin kissed her again. “Do you want to see me again?”

“Yes.”

“There. You just did it.”

“Well, you asked. Why would I lie?”

“You’re so fucking cute.”

They kissed one last time, like children kissing behind the bleachers.

“Walk me back to my dorm?” Rin said.

“Sure.”

They began the walk back toward main campus, passing multiple runners this time, Rin just a step in front, like last time. They didn’t say anything—they moved in silky silence. Back toward the lives and lovers they had left behind for just a few hours. 


	9. there's nothing more beautiful than the lake

9

there’s nothing more beautiful than the lake

By the time she got back to her room, the sun had completely risen, the campus was coming alive in hungover young people struggling to get places, and Haruka felt like throwing up. Makoto was still in her bed—she was always up early on the weekdays, she often took the weekends as her rare chances of sleeping in, mainly, Haruka suspected, because she didn’t have to worry about keeping Haruka from sleeping through class. Perhaps in the heat of the morning, the sunlight spilling in from the window, Makoto had kicked away the blanket in her sleep, and was lying on her bare stomach, cheek crushed against the pillow and legs tangled in the sheets. Alone in the room with her, Haruka started to suffocate. She felt the bubbles in her stomach, made of nude drawings and sunrise kisses, rising up her throat in acidic, bitter waves.

For a moment, she had really just thought it was her emotions playing tricks on her.

In the next moment, though, she was desperately covering her mouth and scrambling out of the room once more. She stumbled into the bathroom, crashed into the nearest bathroom stall, fell to her knees, and vomited into the toilet. As colors flashed in the corners of her vision and her body shook, she stayed hunched over the toilet bowl, waiting for the next wave to hit her—it took about a minute before she was vomiting again, and vomiting nothing, because there was nothing in her stomach to vomit. There was nobody to hold her hair back, so the tips were falling into the dirty water. She didn’t have the energy or the clear-headedness to move.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she heard the pattering of bare feet on the tile floor of the communal bathroom. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes; she hadn’t been quiet and, in her rush to get here, and left the door to her room wide open.

“Haru, oh my god.”

And suddenly the hair was being pulled back from her face, out of the toilet, and there was a large, smooth hand running up and down her back. Her eyes were watery and her breathing raspy, but that hand meant everything. She closed her eyes to feel it more.

“Let it out. It’s okay.”

She dry-heaved. There was nothing left. She was exhausted and disgusted with herself.

“You think that’s it?” Makoto said softly. Haruka nodded, so Makoto put her arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. “Do you want to shower?”

Haruka nodded again. Makoto led her to the nearest shower.

“Take a shower and I’ll bring you some towels, okay?”

“Okay.”

Before leaving Haruka to her own devices, nervous and worried, Makoto placed a single kiss on Haruka’s cold, sweating forehead. Then she went back to the room, and Haruka buried herself in boiling water, despite how hot she was.

 

* * *

 

Rin was already in tears, already a mess, before she even got back to her room. Haruka had left her at the front steps of her building and on the walk up the stairs to her third-floor single the tears had squeezed from her eyes and dropped like anvils. She wasn’t sure if she was crying for herself, for Sousuke, for Haruka, for something different she couldn’t even understand. She was thankful that Sousuke wasn’t in her room. Often, in her bouts of melodrama and meaningless tears, Rin liked having Sousuke around. She didn’t question her tears—she just wiped them away with butterfly kisses and words of nonsensical validation. But in that moment, Rin wanted nothing less in the entire world than to see Sousuke. It would have pushed her over some mysterious edge, into a state of absolute agony she couldn’t even comprehend.

Inside her room, tears now endlessly streaming, Rin collapsed onto her bed. Shaken. Drunk on the kisses of a girl she didn’t know at all, a girl that wasn’t her girlfriend, a girl she had been incessantly dreaming about, getting wet over, quietly pining after until the world had taken mercy. Was it mercy? Or was it punishment? Rin wasn’t sure yet.

She pulled out her camera and flipped through the photos she had taken of Haruka Nanase and her blue, blue eyes. Her lips were always tight together, her expression stoic, her hair falling in perfect straight lines down to the center of her back and spilling in waterfalls over her rounded shoulders. The strangest thing about her face was the lack of tension. Not a single wrinkle, not a single furrow, not the slightest pout in her lips. Everything pristine. The sun colored her beautifully.

_There’s no way she was really looking at me like that._

What had Rin ever done in her life to deserve that? Someone like Haruka Nanase, perfection and beauty in its purest form, staring at her as if she were a revelation?

It was funny. Sousuke had suggested that Rin take a photograph, to capture the blueness of those eyes. But Rin would never show Sousuke these photos. Not directly. She turned off her camera and her phone, and curled up under the blankets to get some more sleep. She was exhausted, after all. Drained. As if Haruka Nanase had sucked her energy straight from her lips and spit it out into the lake, just to watch the ripples.  

 

* * *

 

Hair still wet, Haruka crawled into bed. Makoto didn’t get into bed with her. She just knelt at the bedside, silently braiding Haruka’s hair to keep it from getting too tangled or kinky when it dried. Haruka’s eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale, the bags under her eyes tinted gray and her lips chapped. Makoto grabbed the nearest stick of lip balm off the nightstand and asked Haruka to apply it. Just so her lips wouldn’t hurt when she woke up. When Makoto was satisfied with Haruka’s comfort and had been amply reassured that she would not throw up again, she closed the blinds to the window, shutting away the sunlight and letting Haruka savor the darkness. She kissed her forehead again, bent over the bed like a soldier.

“Can I be alone for a bit?” Haruka murmured.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Haru.”

“I love you, too.”

A squeeze of her hand. Another kiss to her forehead. And then Makoto left, back to her room, so she could get ready for the day and shower herself.

It wasn’t the first time something like this happened.

Makoto could tell when Haruka was sick, _physically_ sick. It wasn’t hard to tell. She would get subdued and stuffy and refuse to leave her bed, and sometimes even refuse to take any medication because she was afraid it would make her mind foggy and keep her from sketching right. She would get drowsy and sleep like a cat, in and out of naps, and like a cat she would get even more physically affectionate. If Makoto hesitated to hold her for fear of contagions, Haruka would sulk for hours, until Makoto inevitably caved and risked her health for the sake of a few cuddles.

But episodes like this were different.

Haruka wasn’t used to high-stress situations. She wasn’t good at making decisions, and she wasn’t good at going against her most basic instincts. She went with the flow and, if the flow became turbulent, she tended to panic. In those moments of panic—like when she’d been applying to colleges (and gotten rejected from one too many), when she’d gone through the move to New York for her summer internship, when Makoto had almost transferred to another school sophomore year—Haruka isolated. And her body reacted in physical ways. She would vomit, she would get chills, she would get crippling stomach aches and hot flashes. She would desire isolation rather than Makoto’s company, which she tended to crave in moments of actual sickness.

The difference today was that, after the first few times it had happened at the beginning of their relationship, Haruka had started explaining, clearly and succinctly to Makoto, the source of her stress. Her failure to do so had led to their earliest fights, and they had both since realized that honesty and openness was a much better policy.

“I’m really stressed about [insert stressful situation here],” she would say, “and I really need to be alone right now. Thank you for taking care of me. I love you. I’ll call you in a bit.”

It was nothing like that today.

And Makoto was anxious about it.

She could always ask Haruka later, but it had been years— _years_ —since Haruka had been so non-communicative with her.

Fresh out of the shower, Makoto sat on the edge of her bed brushing her hair. She was listening to Frank Ocean to try and get his songs out of her head, they’d been stuck there for days, and thinking about Haruka. Her walls were covered with photographs, most split evenly between her family and Haruka. Nagisa occupied a good share, as well. They had been very close last year, but hadn’t seen each other all summer. Perhaps they needed another week or so to rekindle the friendship that the three of them had shared.

Her brain was bouncing around in strange, unpredictable zig-zag lines, one topic to another, all reconvening on Haruka Nanase in the center.

Makoto grabbed her phone and called Nagisa’s number.

“Hello?” It was clear that Nagisa had been woken up by the phone call. It was only 8:30am, and Makoto could assume that Nagisa had been out late the night before.

“Hey, Nagisa.”

“Mako-chan. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you…”

“No, it’s fine. I was awake.”

Makoto decided to ignore the boldfaced lie.

“Do you want to get lunch later?”

“Oh, Rei and I were gonna—”

“Right, sure. Yeah. Another time then.”

There was a pause.

“Actually, never mind. I’m free for lunch, and for the entire afternoon, in fact. You are my date for the day.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ll pick you up at noon. And you better be looking fine, otherwise I’m not taking you anywhere.”

Makoto held back her laughter as the relief spread through her chest.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Nagisa.”

“See you soon!”

She made a kissing sound into the phone and hung up.

 

* * *

 

Sousuke woke up around ten, much later than usual. She was naturally a deep and late sleeper, but recently she’d been forcing herself to get up and stick to her regimented study schedule. The exam was in a few months, and she didn’t feel at all ready. It was like a constant cloud over her head, a thorn in her side, a demon clinging to her back and continuously whispering in her ear that she needed to study. Of course it was worth it, she kept saying to herself, of course if it means getting into medical school and becoming a doctor the way she’d always dreamed of, it was worth it. But, fuck, studying really blew. It was draining her. She had decided the night before, guzzling down a beer, that today would be a break. She would let her brain refresh, take a day to watch Netflix and go for a longer run than usual and have hours of mind-blowing sex with her girlfriend, before getting back to the grind tomorrow.

She checked her phone. Rin hadn’t texted her at all. That was strange.

She got herself ready to go on a run (pre-planned with Rin), in her spandex shorts and tank top, and then walked across the hall and knocked on Rin’s door. There was no answer, so she knocked harder. When she tried the knob, it was locked. She jiggled it for a bit, as if that would’ve helped, and banged on the door with her fist again.

“Rin! It’s me.”

“I know who it is,” came the shaky voice from inside. Sousuke’s heart dropped to her feet—she’d heard that tone enough times.

“Hey, come on. Open the door.”

Silence again.

“We don’t have to go on that run if you don’t want to,” Sousuke continued, her voice softer now. She’d graduated from anger to concerned exasperation. “We can just stay in.”

After a few more moments of silence, Rin opened the door. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, she was still sniffling, and her hair was wild and unkempt. Sousuke tried not to give her a pitying look, because she knew how much Rin hated that.

“You’re already all dressed up for it,” she said.

“I’ll just go run for a bit and come straight back.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to, babe.”

“I want to. It’s beautiful outside.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

Sousuke took it as her cue to wait in the hallway, rather than go inside, as she usually did. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, head bowed, eyes practically (but not quite) closed. Something was very much off, but she was afraid to say anything, because she knew it would start a fight. Rin would talk when she was ready; Sousuke had to just be content, being there for her, until she did.

Rin came out and with a quick, good morning kiss, they headed out.

“I was thinking we could run around the lake. It’s a good three miles, at least,” Sousuke said as they stepped out into the sunlight. The heat would be unbearable in a few hours. Rin stared up at the sky as they walked, shielding her eyes with the back of her arm.

“Okay. Sure. We’ll run around the lake.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rin brought her head down to flash a knee-bending smile.

“Of course I’m sure. There’s nothing more beautiful than the lake this time of year, anyway.”

They walked the two minutes to the bank of the lake, and then they started to jog. Slowly at first, to warm up—Sousuke usually let Rin lead the pace of their runs. She had a better sense of stamina than Sousuke. Her red hair was tied back into a ponytail, but the shorter strands had escaped and were starting to stick to her face. By the time they were at a steady running pace, they were both drenched, their attempts at conversation cut off by their shortness of breath. There were some other runners out, some people walking their dogs, couples taking leisurely walks with their fingers interlocked. The two of them, both beautiful and both muscular and both shimmering, ran in perfect rhythm with each other. Their conversation eventually died out—they focused totally and completely on running.

As they came full circle and were reaching their starting point once more, Rin suddenly broke into a sprint, arms swinging like wild pendulums at her sides as she burst forward like a torpedo.

“Rin!”

She didn’t stop. She ran, ran, ran, until she came to a clumsy stop and collapsed on the bank of the lake, arms covering her head. Sousuke jogged up beside her. Leaned on her knees to catch her breath. Droplets of sweat were falling down into the grass.

“You win,” Sousuke said hoarsely between gasps of air. Rin, eyes still covered, smiled.

“Of course I win. I always win.”

“I can’t argue.”

“Lay down with me, Sou.”

And, like the slave that she was, Sousuke obeyed. If one day she was standing on the edge of a cliff and she heard Rin’s voice tell her to jump, she would do it without a second thought. Just in some futile hope that she would make Rin happy.

They lay next to each other, fingers brushing, staring into the big, useless sky. They could hear the water. Each other’s breathing. Wind whistling through the grass. Sousuke felt her heart stretch out in ease and contentment. They were silent. They were perfect.

Until, shattering this world like glass, Sousuke turned and saw tears glistening on Rin’s cheeks.

Not the happy kind.

When she cried happy tears, she always looked straight into Sousuke’s eyes.

But in that moment, she was just staring up at the sky. 


	10. and what for, anyway?

10

and what for, anyway?

Nagisa and Makoto looked young and divine, sitting at a table on the patio of a café in the city that same afternoon. They complimented each other well—Makoto tall, with her bouncing ponytail, her soft expression, her cappuccino, her white capris and blue blouse; Nagisa short, with her yellow curls, her excited expression, her sugary iced coffee, her pink sundress. Makoto was smiling, she was present, but her mind was elsewhere. Back on campus, in bed with Haruka, wondering what could have possibly happened to make her like this.

“I’m glad you called me. I miss you,” Nagisa said. “I mean, I know we were just together last night, but still.”

“We were practically glued at the hip last year. Me, you, and Haru.”

“Exactly. You guys made my first year so much easier.”

“I’m glad.”

“But if you start bailing on me this year, I’ll never forgive you.” She gave an over-exaggerated pout, and sipped coffee from her neon pink straw.

“We would never,” Makoto smiled.

There was a lull in the conversation, as Makoto fell silent and Nagisa watched her face closely.

“How are you and Haru doing, anyway?”

“Same as always,” Makoto replied, without thinking. It was the answer she always gave, because she and Haruka had been the same for a long time.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Not much can change at this point. We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long, I don’t even…”

“You don’t even know what it would be like without each other,” Nagisa finished. Makoto didn’t like the way that sounded; she couldn’t deny it, either.

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That makes sense. You guys are almost always together.”

“We’re not together right now.”

“Hey. That’s true.” Nagisa stared up at the sky as she drank more. “She busy or something?”

“She’s actually feeling sick.”

“Oh, poor Haru-chan. Maybe I’ll go visit her later.”

“N-no, she…she kinda wants to be alone.”

Nagisa furrowed her brow, but didn’t say anything more about it.

“Her sketches just keep getting better. She’s definitely gonna be famous one day,” she mused.

“Maybe if she can sit down and actually plan something about her future,” Makoto said with a smile. “Every time I mention it, she gets grumpy and changes the subject.”

“She did do that sick internship.”

“It took me months to convince her to apply.”

“She just needs some encouragement. And you’re there to provide.”

“What if I wasn’t? Or what if…one day I’m not? Is she just gonna sit and sketch all day?”

“Mako-chan? Are you actually worried about that?” There was concern in Nagisa’s voice.

“No, not really. We’ve just been together so long…”

“You’re worried that she’s too dependent on you?”

“And I’m too dependent on her.” The thoughts had been stirring in Makoto’s head for years, but this was the first time she was verbalizing them. It didn’t feel good. “It’s like I’ve developed instincts to take care of her.”

“Like a mother and a child?”

“Kind of. Like, I find purpose in taking care of her.”

“Isn’t that just love?”

“I don’t know. Is love supposed to involve this level of dependence?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask about that,” Nagisa laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

“Sometimes I feel like if one day, she woke up totally independent and didn’t really need me to take care of her anymore, I would be lost. It feels like it goes beyond love.”

“Have you ever mentioned this to her?”

“No. How would I even bring it up?”

“Maybe you’re just worrying too much. Each relationship has its own dynamic—this is just yours.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, though. I’m wrong a lot of the time,” Nagisa teased.

“How are you and Rei doing?”

“Good.”

“Good? That’s it?”

“She’s just got such a hard shell! I need time to break it. I’m absolutely positive that she’s warm and fuzzy on the inside.”

“You sound like some sort of criminal,” Makoto grinned.

“I’m a stealer of hearts.”

They fell into cheesy laughter. And as the afternoon droned on, and they took a walk through the park and sat by the ponds and fed the ducks, the words that had gelled in Makoto’s mind and had finally made their way off her tongue weighed her down like ankle weights.

 

* * *

 

Haruka stared blankly at her phone. Its screen was the only thing lighting up the room. After an hour of sitting in the sunlit bed, she had gotten up and closed the blinds. She had been laying in the shadows for most of the day. She was hungry. Her throat was sore, her lips still chapped (she kept forgetting to reapply the lip balm), her skin dry. And it was hot—she was covered in sweat like a thin sheet on her skin. She hadn’t even found the energy or will to turn on some music. Just staring, blankly, dreaming of the sketches she would draw and the kisses she still felt on her lips. Makoto was sending her occasional updates. At a café now, going to the park now, getting ice cream now. Tonight Makoto would come back and Haruka would have to find a reason to say she wanted to stay alone through the night. Makoto was probably worried. And there was, probably, nothing Haruka could have done to make it better.

Each time she looked at her phone, she hoped aggressively that Rin’s name would pop up. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear from her. She just wanted to see that name. She wanted to imagine Rin, across campus, thinking about her enough to send her a text message. Because Haruka had already been upfront and told her how she lacked bravery—Rin wasn’t allowed to fault her for cowardice anymore. She had already admitted to it. Haruka had all but begged Rin to make the next move.

_What does that even mean?_

Haruka had to keep reminding herself that she was already in love.

_I love Makoto. I love Makoto. I love Makoto._

She couldn’t imagine a life not loving Makoto—

_I love Makoto. I love Makoto. I love Makoto._

How would she know how to love anybody else?

_I love Makoto. I love Makoto. I love Makoto._

Her phone screen lit up.

_Makoto: headed toward the bus stop. need anything?_

_Haruka: no thanks_

_Makoto: see you soon_

_Haruka: k_

Limbs heavy, movements slow, Haruka got out of bed and went to her desk. She tied her hair back, put on her headphones, turned up the melodramatic Julien Baker, and pulled out her sketchbook. She turned to the sketch she had started that morning. There was Rin again, a cheeky expression, gloriously naked, immortalized. Haruka began to work on it. Perfect it. Every few moments she had to pause and swipe away the tears with the back of her hand, lest they fall onto the page and threaten the immaculateness of the sketch.

Her phone buzzed again. She reached for it faster than she even realized that it had buzzed. It wasn’t Makoto this time.

_Rin: what are you doing right now_

_Haruka: sketching_

_Rin: me?_

_Haruka: yes_

_Rin: lets get lunch tomorrow_

_Haruka: k_

_Makoto: do you want to order pizza for dinner?_

_Haruka: actually im going to bed early_

_Makoto: everything okay?_

_Haruka: still feeling sick_

_Makoto: do you want me to bring you medicine?_

_Haruka: no i think i just need sleep_

_Makoto: okay sleep tight then_

_Haruka: i love you makoto_

_Makoto: i love you too haru. more than i can ever say._

_Rin: random question_

_Haruka: what_

_Rin: do you also feel like shit?_

_Haruka: yes_

_Rin: okay just making sure im not crazy_

_(Haruka: i cant stop thinking about you)_

For the first time that Haruka could remember, as she broke down and her body was wrecked with her gut-wrenching sobs, she didn’t want Makoto by her side—she didn’t want Makoto to be holding her—didn’t want Makoto to be wiping her tears—she couldn’t breathe she was crying so hard—and she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

Suddenly everything was changing, and as much as Haruka tried telling herself that there was nothing she was more afraid of in the world than change, she was the one who had brought it on. Makoto wasn’t changing anything. Haruka was the one changing everything. And a part of her was released in that moment of realization, and she realized that everything was crumbling and the tide was rising, and she was going to have to rise to meet it. She let her certainty dissipate, and cried until she was exhausted enough to fall asleep.

The first half of the next day was like a hazy dream. Makoto woke her up in the morning to remind her she had homework, helped her get ready, took her to breakfast. And it was there that Haruka had to tell Makoto that she couldn’t have lunch—she was meeting a friend.

“A friend? Really? Not Nagisa?” Makoto replied, elated. Haruka felt her genuine happiness like a slap to the face.

“Someone I met in class,” Haruka lied. For no real reason.

“That’s great, Haru. I’ll just see you for dinner then?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect. I’m going to the library, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Their reflexive goodbye.

Haruka sat in the grass outside her dorm and sketched, but she had to cover the sketch with her arm so the people walking past couldn’t see it—it was explicit and the most vulgar nude she’d ever drawn. And Rin was recognizable in it. But she couldn’t hold down the urge to work on it, so there she was, covering her sketch as she half-drew half-sunbathed. The morning passed and she had barely gotten anything done; it seemed as if nothing could be good enough for this sketch. Every line she drew, she had to erase and redraw, and then erase again and redraw again, because she couldn’t bear the thought of this image being anything less than absolutely perfect. Drawing Rin turned out to be terrifying.

Rin was easy to pick out in the slow Sunday-afternoon cafeteria. Nobody had hair as red as hers.

Haruka barely even mumbled a hello as she approached the wooden table where Rin was sitting, reading a magazine and looking very focused. There was a plate of half-finished salad on the table. When Haruka approached, her head snapped up. And the smile that Haruka had almost gotten used to, the smile that she was expecting, was nowhere to be seen. Rin’s usual comportment of mischief, flirtatiousness, charm, was gone, replaced with seriousness, downturned pursed lips, wrinkles in her forehead. Haruka was taken off-guard, so much so that it took her a second to remember to sit down.

“Hey,” Rin said.

“Hi.”

“How are you…I dunno, how are you feeling?”

Haruka shrugged.

“Yeah. Same,” Rin said. “Do you want to get something to eat, or…?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.”

Silence. Awkward. Unusual.

“How’s the sketch coming?” she finally asked.

“It’s coming. It’s harder than my other sketches.”

“Why?”

“I want it to be absolutely perfect. And it’s just hard.”

Not once did Rin break into even a hint of a smile. It was making Haruka nervous—her heart sped up, and she felt a bit lightheaded. But the thought of putting food into her stomach made her nauseated, so she stayed put.

“Right.”

Another silence. Rin was the one to break it, again.

“I think we should talk about yesterday,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. Probably.”

“I was thinking. You know, about the kisses, and about seeing you again.”

For some reason, Haruka couldn’t meet Rin’s eyes. She stared down at the scratches in the table.

“I don’t think we should.”

Haruka blinked.

_Did I hear that right?_

“Don’t think we should…?”

“I don’t think we should see each other again,” Rin clarified. Haruka looked at her, tried to read her face, found nothing there but a wall of ice. “I mean, you’re with Makoto, I’m with Sousuke, it was a stupid mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“We’re happy. Both of us. We’re in loving relationships and there’s no reason to jeopardize them. And what for, anyway? Curiosity?”

_Slow down._

“I can’t stand the idea of breaking Sousuke’s heart over something like this.”

_“Something like this?”_

“We barely know each other anyway. Right?”

“Are you saying you didn’t mean to kiss me?” Haruka asked. Rin paused.

“N-no. I just think—”

“So you’re just saying you regret it.”

“I mean, yeah.” Rin wasn’t faltering. “Don’t you?”

Haruka got her bag and stood up.

“No,” she said.

“Haru, wait.”

And then she walked away. Because she hated crying in public, and the look on Rin’s face was unfathomably horrible.

 

* * *

 

_Rin: im sorry_

_Haruka: for what_

_Rin: getting you into this mess_

_Haruka: dont patronize me_

_Rin: im not_

_Haruka: k_

_Rin: i really am sorry_

_Haruka: i believe you_

_Rin: will you forgive me_

_Haruka: nothing to forgive_

_Rin: okay well ill probably see you around?_

_Haruka: probably_

_Rin: cool tell makoto i said hi_

_Haruka: tell her yourself_

 

* * *

 

Neither of them was sure how they were going to survive the coming week. 


	11. what do you want from me?

11

what do you want from me?

Rin lasted five days.

 

* * *

 

Everywhere she went, she thought she was seeing Haruka in her peripheral vision. A flash of blue, a silhouette of long hair, but each time she looked, it wasn’t Haruka. Sometimes there was nobody there at all. And Rin would have to roll her eyes, rub her temples, and go ask Sousuke to fuck her senseless. She couldn’t get Haruka’s broken expression from her head. When she’d stood up from the table, bag over her shoulder, and Rin could see that she was holding back tears (takes one to know one). Rin had been so confused. How was this a bad decision? How could she possibly have been guilty of breaking Haruka Nanase’s heart? The number of their clandestine kisses was higher than the number of times they’d actually met, and they hardly knew each other. Of course Rin was making the right decision. She didn’t want to leave Sousuke. They were happy together. Who was Haruka Nanase, anyway? A beautiful, enigmatic girl who didn’t talk much, who had eyes like the ocean, whose voice was made of tired wintery symphonies.

_What the fuck is going on?_

The only time she wasn’t thinking about Haruka was when Sousuke was fucking her. Even she was aware of how unhealthy that was, but she had no idea how to address it, so she didn’t. When Sousuke was fucking her, all she could feel was the pleasure and the blinding pain, and it helped her forget emotional woes through physical elation. Her orgasms were destructive for those five days, unlike any orgasms she’d ever experienced.

After the sex, though, she fell apart. Sometimes she threw temper tantrums, sometimes she sulked and pouted, sometimes she faked a smile. Sousuke pestered her about it endlessly—“what the hell is going on with you? is it something I did? why are you so fucking dramatic all the time? talk to me, damn it!” But Rin couldn’t let her in. Not for this.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just feeling a little weird because I think I’m falling for someone else,” wasn’t something she could’ve said. So she bottled everything up, and let it slip out in aimless anger and steamy tears.

She could see that it was driving Sousuke mad. She wasn’t sleeping well, she couldn’t study in her room or in Rin’s presence anymore, she was finding it harder and harder to not explode.

(Sousuke’s explosions were terrifying, and she knew it.)

Rin could see that she was driving Sousuke mad, really driving her mad, but she could also see that it would never quite be enough to drive her away. Sousuke was there for the long run, wrapped around Rin’s little finger as tightly as she could be. And sometimes, Rin was glad—she needed someone stable and nurturing like Sousuke to keep her grounded, someone who knew her as well as Sousuke did to help her navigate the world. And sometimes, Rin was furious—she wanted to be free of the burden of someone else’s emotions. That would never happen as long as she was with Sousuke.

It was weird. Sousuke knew those things about her; it was the reason why Sousuke almost always knew what was Rin was going through, ups and downs and everything in between, but Rin was never privy to Sousuke’s experiences. Sure, she complained about the studying, they were intimate with their dreams and feelings, but Sousuke had never come close to giving her emotions to Rin the way Rin had given her emotions to Sousuke. It was because, Rin knew, Sousuke didn’t want to burden Rin with anything.

Sousuke was really horrible, the way she was so good.

It made Rin feel like shit.

 

* * *

 

Haruka was okay on Monday. She made it through class. She asked Makoto to pose for her, because she couldn’t bear even looking at her nude sketch of Rin. She spent the afternoon by the lake, drifting between light naps in the sun and sketching. She decided that she wanted to sketch Rei and Nagisa again soon, maybe separately this time. They had so much to give her. So many colors and expressions and emotions lived there in those two. And their differences only made them more charming.

She got her period later that day, and was thankful—she had been wondering all day how she was going to tell Makoto that she didn’t want to have sex. It wouldn’t have mattered what she said, though. Makoto would have supported her regardless. But Haruka didn’t like having to come up with excuses, and knew it would hurt Makoto’s feelings if she continued to say “I just don’t feel like it.” Not because Makoto was desperate for sex, nothing like that, but Makoto was no fool, and she knew when Haruka was hiding things from her. It was the most closed off she’d been to Makoto since they’d first started dating. She and Makoto had dinner, then she went to her room, took some Advil to calm the cramps (they were always especially bad for her), and crawled into bed like a crab crawling into its shell. Makoto made her tea and cuddled with her for a bit; Haruka managed to fall asleep, tucked into Makoto’s arms, and had a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she woke up, no later than 5am, her stomach was turning.

She ran back into the bathroom and vomited again. She hadn’t been eating well—there was almost nothing to throw up, so all she could do was dry-heave for ten minutes before the waves of nausea passed, and she was left in tears, hunched over the toilet. With what little strength she had, she showered, brushed her teeth to get rid of the acidic taste of the vomit, emailed her professors to let them know she was sick and wouldn’t be making it to class, and crawled back into bed. Thankful that this time, Makoto hadn’t heard. When Makoto did wake up, Haruka told her, apologetically, that she was feeling sick again, and was going to stay in.

“Maybe you should go to health services. This is the second time in three days you’ve puked,” Makoto said.

“I think I’ll feel better if I just rest.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please don’t make me go to health services.”

“Hey, I’m not gonna make you do anything, okay? Just stay in bed for today. We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“I have to go to class, but if you need anything at all, just text me. I’ll bring you lunch.”

“I can’t promise I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll bring chicken noodle soup or something.”

Haruka managed a half-hearted smile.

Wednesday was the same. She didn’t vomit again, but each time she tried to stand the world spun, and she had to grab the nearest thing to steady her. She couldn’t even take two steps. So she stayed in bed, unable to do really anything but intermittently check her phone, go in and out of sweaty restless sleep, and dream of sketches. She felt lost, wandering, as if she’d lost something that she’d never even had. Everything was a mess and she didn’t know how to fix it, so she shut down instead.

She did manage to make it to class on Thursday, with Makoto’s help. But she was even more quiet than usual, and whenever she tried to work on her sketches, her hands shook and she was forced to put the pencil down. That had never happened before. In the middle of class, she found herself blinking back even more tears, because suddenly she couldn’t draw anything. Not even a single straight line. She really was shutting down.

By Friday, she felt hollowed out. Even if she had wanted to keep crying (over what?), there were no tears left.

Nothing could have convinced Haruka that she was really crying over Rin Matsuoka. Rin couldn’t have possibly broken her heart, when Haruka had never even given it to her. Yes, Haruka was always checking her phone, riddled with the hope that Rin’s name would be there, and she was thinking _incessantly_ of Rin, but she didn’t feel as if her heart was broken. She just felt lost. She felt like there was something missing, that she had come close to grasping it, and that it had slipped through her fingers. Haruka wasn’t crying over Rin Matsuoka. She was crying over the ideas and dreams that Rin Matsuoka had planted into her brain, and those two things were excruciatingly different.

She tried a few times throughout the day to sketch, but her hands were still shaking. She couldn’t grip the pencil right. Her entire being was off-balance and weak.

When Makoto asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner, maybe a bar out in the city, Haruka bit down on her lip and hugged her knees to her chest. Without a word, Makoto sat down next to her on the bed, and grabbed one of her hands.

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” she said softly. As if Haruka really didn’t know. “Please tell me what’s going on. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Haruka mumbled. “I really would. You know I would.”

Both of them at a loss now, Makoto reached up to stroke Haruka’s cheek with the back of her hand—velvet on velvet. Haruka closed her eyes and leaned into her touch.

“My poor, sweet Haru.”      

Suddenly, a tone rang out from Haruka’s phone. She checked her messages. It was Nagisa, announcing that she was coming over without bothering to ask for permission.

“Nagisa’s on her way over.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you invited her.”

“I didn’t.”  

“Of course not,” Makoto laughed.

Five minutes later Nagisa was at the door, knocking loudly, demanding that they open the door and order pizza.

The three of them spent the night in, nibbling on cheap cheese pizza while _Friends_ droned on in the background. Haruka found unexpected comfort, familiar comfort, in the energy shared between Nagisa and Makoto. They fell into rhythm. Haruka on the bed, head in Makoto’s lap, while Makoto and Nagisa talked and talked and talked. They didn’t make her feel pressured to join in—until Nagisa addressed her, loudly, boldly.

“Haru-chan!”

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you all week and now that I’m here, you’re all pouty.”

“Am not.”

“You are, too. You haven’t said a single word.”

“How out of character for me.”

“What’s going on? I’m serious. You’re just staring into space, and you don’t really look sick.”

Haruka sat up and leaned back against the wall. Nagisa had always been good at seeing straight through her. Makoto watched them anxiously.

“I don’t know. I’ve just been feeling weird, like, everything is spinning all the time. I tried sketching today and my hands were too shaky.”

“Your hands? Gimme.”

Nagisa reached forward and grabbed Haruka’s small, delicate hands straight from her lap. She held them the way you cup water in your hands, and brought her face down to look at them. They were trembling, ever so slightly. Finally, when Nagisa was satisfied with what she’d seen, she planted a slobbery kiss on the tops of Haruka’s hands.  

“There’s an easy fix for that,” she declared. Haruka blinked, and Makoto raised her eyebrows.

“Oh?”

“You lack inspiration!” Nagisa stood on the bed, hands on her defiant hips.  “Your hands are rebelling against you!”

“I have plenty of inspiration.”

“What was your favorite thing to do in New York?” she suddenly asked. “Something that always inspired you?”

A pause.

“Sketching in the MoMA at night, after everyone was gone.”

“You have to go back to that. Back to the basics, you know?”

“Nagisa, do you have any idea what you’re even talking about?” Makoto chuckled.

“Sure I do. Whenever I’m feeling icky, I always go back to the basics. Something simple, where you don’t have to think too much, and you’re comfortable.”

“Back to the basics,” Haruka repeated.

“Right.”

“Thanks, Nagisa. That was really helpful.”

Haruka smiled, put on a sweater, grabbed her bag, and left without another word.  

* * *

 

Rin had covered up the smoke alarm in her room with a plastic bag and a hanger so she could smoke a cigarette while she flipped through the photos from her camera. Sousuke was at the library—they’d had another fight. Rin couldn’t even remember what it had been about. Only that there had been screaming, that she had thrown something (a hairbrush?), that in the end Sousuke had _begged_ for her to be reasonable, but Rin had kicked her out anyway. If the trend was to be followed, Sousuke had probably tried to micromanage something, or given Rin a totally reasonable piece of advice that Rin had decided to take as a personal offense. Just because she wanted an excuse to blow up. Because why the fuck not? She was frustrated and angry and if Sousuke was willing to be her punching bag, Rin would punch her.

She was acutely aware of her depravity.

She would have to apologize tomorrow. Do something to make up for it.

_You can’t keep doing this, Rin, you fucking bitch._

She blew a frustrated puff into the air and edited the photos with the fuel of frustration.

And then, she came once again upon the photos she had taken of Haruka Nanase. Sitting on the banks of the lake, nothing but _calm_ on her face. She was looking slightly back over her shoulder, as if Rin had called out her name, and she had turned slightly to respond. Yeah, what’s up? She was dripping sunlight gold.

“Fuck.”

It was the best portrait Rin had ever done, and it had been taken in one stupid fucking shot.

She checked her watch; it was almost midnight. But she had access to the art building with her ID card, and she needed to go to the darkroom to get rid of this persistent ache in her chest. So she crushed her cigarette on her cheap ashtray and, despite the late hour, made her way to the campus art building.

It was Friday, so people were about, dressed up to go out to frat parties and bars and anywhere that wasn’t this small, middle-of-nowhere campus. Rin was often among these students, desperate to get out and do something, anything, but today she was in her own world. Headphones on, hood covering her head, small backpack hanging over her shoulder, she made her way solemnly to the academic quad. Nobody noticed her—she’d made herself deliberately invisible. On the other side of campus she could see the silhouette of the main library, where Sousuke was probably having trouble studying through the anger. Rin pushed the guilt away, just for now.

She used her ID card to swipe into the closed building, and let her muscle memory lead her down to the darkroom. There weren’t many students on campus who used it—even the other photography majors didn’t use it terribly often. But Rin found comfort in the darkness and the solitude, in the warmth of creating something bright and artistic and totally hers out of shadows. For the next hour or so she marinated in the darkroom, cutting her film and developing it with the love and care of a parent caring for a child. She hadn’t actually developed her film in a while, so there was a lot to do. She lost track of time—the next time she checked her watch, it was almost 2 o’clock in the morning.

Something else had brought her here.

Rin packed up her stuff and left the darkroom. She walked up to the first floor of the building, where the art of various students was on display, most from last semester or over the summer considering how early in the year it was. And for once, she took her time looking at the pieces of art; this school was renowned for its art programs, after all. These students were some of the best of the best. All sorts of abstracts, watercolors, pastels, portraits.

She had been expecting to find something of Haruka’s, but somehow, she hadn’t expected it to be quite so haunting.

It was a large portrait of Makoto. Her back was to the viewer, naked, as vast as a meadow, with her head turned to the side to give a perfect, soft profile. Her hair, as always, was tied up, in a messy bun with every tangle and every tiny fucking detail captured perfectly. Her eyes were almost closed, staring down at the ground, lips slightly parted. Rin stared for an eternity. The title was “11/17 scorpio.” It was stunning. The care that had gone into this piece was evident in every line. There was another note written beneath the title—apparently the piece had won an award. Rin felt chills run down her spine. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

Everything was so fucked up, everything was crumbling, everything was swirling up in an unstoppable tornado.

Rin made her way up the stairs to room 205, the place she had first set eyes on Haruka Nanase.

* * *

 

Haruka was sitting in the same seat, toward the back of this empty room. Sketching as she’d never sketched before, tears rolling down her cheeks, unstoppable.

 

* * *

 

As Rin stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, leaving it in dim lights and dancing shadows, Haruka stared at her. Silent. Surprised, but not very. Just enough.

 

* * *

 

Rin started making her way forward.

 

* * *

 

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t.”

 

* * *

 

She leaned over the desk, held Haruka’s face, and kissed her. Hard.

 

* * *

 

“What do you want from me?” Haruka whispered.

        Breathless. Lips glistening, hair spread out like wings on the floor. Rin, mouth salty with her own tears, kissed her neck desperately. 

        “Tell me what you want from me, I’ll do it.”

“Just you,” Rin replied. “Just you.”  


	12. why does it have to make sense?

12

why does it have to make sense?

They made love as if it were the millionth time. As if they’d been born knowing each other’s bodies, each other’s breaths, each other’s pains and pleasures. They weren’t cautious and curious, the way they’d been when they had kissed and held hands and walked along the lake. They were sure of themselves now—they’d had time to imagine letting whatever this was disappear, and both of them were willing to do anything to prevent that from happening.

Even as Rin struggled out of her hoodie, she didn’t stop kissing Haruka. She was leaning awkwardly across the desk, letting it dig into her stomach, because she _needed to be kissing Haruka Nanase_.

Haruka felt like a drunk, intoxicated, thoughts fuzzy and vision blurred and everything suddenly more wonderful than it ever was otherwise. Rin was stronger and more aggressive than she was, but she didn’t mind. There was a thrill, there was happiness, in being pushed back and kissed and touched the way that Rin was pushing her and kissing her and touching her.

“Is this okay?” Rin suddenly asked, lips still touching Haruka’s.

What else could Haruka do but nod?

Over and over and over until Rin was kissing her again. Hands at the base of her neck, tongue like saltwater and cherry blossoms twisting around hers. Rin was overwhelming—Haruka couldn’t keep up. She found herself out of breath, dizzy. And then suddenly they were on the floor of this classroom, where Rin pushed her knee up between Haruka’s legs and kissed her neck. As Rin pushed her leg up, and Haruka grinded down, she let herself lose her mind in the wetness of Rin’s tongue, the pressure building between her legs, the warmth of Rin’s palms as they slid up Haruka’s shirt and pressed down into her pale, thin curves. Her fingers were in Rin’s hair, her neck arched and her hair covering her face like a velvet shroud—when she opened her mouth to moan, strands of her own hair got caught in her lips.

Rin stopped. She braced herself on her palms and straightened her arms, so that she was above Haruka, looking down at her flushed, mouth-wide-open face. Haruka blinked. Rin suddenly seemed so far away and she felt so cold. She opened her eyes slowly and stared up into Rin’s face—she was smiling. But there were those tears again, the ones that Haruka had convinced herself weren’t real last time. There they were. Shining rainbows down.

“Look at you,” Rin breathed.

She brought on hand to Haruka’s clammy cheek, brushing away the matted strands of hair so she could stroke beneath her eye and touch her eyelashes with the tips of her fingers. Haruka breathed out a tsunami and leaned her cheek into Rin’s palm. This was everything she had ever felt, there in the palm of this girl’s hand.

“Straight out of a dream,” Rin continued. “Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you before.”

“Your dreams,” Haruka replied.

“That’s the only way to explain it.”

With her thumb, Rin began tracing Haruka’s open lips—running first along her lower lip, pulling it down into a pout, then along her upper lip, smoothing out the wrinkles and slowly, slowly, making Haruka hers.

“You’re a masterpiece.”

She leaned down to kiss those lips. Rin’s chest was heavy falling down on Haruka’s, but she liked it that way. Haruka succumbed to her own pleasures, her own desires, her own twisted fantasies, and she opened her mouth wider and moaned when Rin bit her lip and sucked on it. With shaky fingers (Haruka assumed that they didn’t normally shake in situations like this, not with her reputation), Rin began to undo the buttons of Haruka’s shorts, undo the zipper, dance on the rim of her underwear. Her other hand snaked up to Haruka’s slightly arched back, to undo her bra—it came off with a click. Decisive and desperate, Rin sat up for a moment, just long enough to take Haruka’s shirt and bra off and toss them across the room, and then take her own shirt off. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.

Haruka’s hands were shaking, too, and much more obviously. Rin grabbed her wrists and pulled them, placed them over her own breasts. She felt like an angel, and Haruka felt for a single moment like she was doing something forbidden, like she was a transgressor. But Rin was smiling and moving her hips in blinding-white circles. If Haruka was a transgressor, Rin was even worse. They were both going to hell together.

Rin kissed her again, their bare chests now pressed tightly together, and as their kisses become bigger and sloppier and louder, Rin pressed her palm up against Haruka’s groin, between her legs, against her jeans. A groan, low and long, left Haruka’s lips and moved straight into Rin’s. Breathless, seeing stars, Haruka closed her eyes as Rin put her lips to Haruka’s ear.

“Tell me what you like,” she murmured, swiveling her palm.

“Whatever you want to do to me,” she responded. Hoarse. Rin laughed.

“You like being complacent? Submissive?”

“If you like me being complacent and submissive.”

Rin shot up again and dragged Haruka’s shorts and underwear down her legs and forced her legs open with hands like ice now. She spread her arms out and stared up at the ceiling, letting her eyes fall closed like a butterfly wing falling to the ground. She felt Rin’s lips at her breast, while her fingers played with the nipple on the other—then her lips were above her belly button, below her belly button, she swiped her tongue along the inside of Haruka’s thigh until, involuntarily, Haruka opened her legs even wider.

“Be loud for me, Haru. You’re safe here.”

She touched the tip of her tongue to Haruka’s cunt. That initial touch was like an electric shock pulsing through Haruka’s skin. Her muscles became tense and she clawed at the hard tile floor. Rin moved her tongue down, then flicked it up; Haruka began to relax as the pleasure overpowered the shock. After teasing for a bit longer, moving her tongue up and down and up and down, Rin pressed the tip to Haruka’s clitoris—and there was white everywhere. Haruka couldn’t hear herself, couldn’t see herself, she could’ve been anyone feeling this intense pleasure—had it ever been like this with Makoto?—who’s that?—I’m in love with someone else?—no. Tongue moving in circles, faster and slower, a kiss, sucking like a lollipop, a moan from those lips moving up through Haruka’s stomach, her throat, and out through her own mouth. She must have been moving like a dancer. Must have been moaning like a whore.

Faster, harder, time no longer making sense, whiter and whiter and whiter and—

Haruka’s voice got caught in her throat as she came, and it hitched, squeaked, before flattening out into a smooth, breathy moan. Her body tensed for a moment, before, exhausted and riddled with pleasure, her muscles relaxed again and she let herself spread out on the floor. She was afraid to open her eyes.  

“Oh, my god. Don’t fucking move,” she heard Rin whisper. She hadn’t been planning on moving. She felt Rin stand, heard clambering of some sort, and then finally opened her eyes to find Rin, half-naked, standing over her and preparing her camera.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. You look…just, don’t move. Please. And close your eyes.”

Haruka did as she was told. Her eyelids felt heavy. She heard the click of the camera—again—again. Even when she heard Rin putting the camera away, she didn’t move or open her eyes. She just lay there. Until finally, Rin was beside her again, running her hands through the wet strands of hair framing her face, kissing the corner of her eye and the tip of her nose. Only then did Haruka open her eyes. And there she was. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Giving away kisses like they were nothing, like they had all been made just for Haruka.

“Why are you crying?” Haruka whispered.

“Who knows?”

Haruka reached forward and wiped away one of the tears. And for a bit longer, they stayed wrapped up in each other, on the floor of the classroom where they had first met, bathing in shadows and catastrophe and each other’s horrible sins and terrifying pleasures. They looked like they belonged on the ceiling of a cathedral.

 

* * *

 

They got dressed quietly. It wasn’t an awkward, regretful silence like they might have expected. It was warm, comfortable silence, the kind of silence that follows the love of partners who have been together for eternities. Rin was finished more quickly—fully-clothed, she leaned against one of the desks and watched Haruka pulling her shorts up and stepping back into her shoes. Haruka met her eyes, met her smile, and smiled back.

“Come here.”

Haruka grabbed Rin’s outstretched hand and let herself be pulled forward, into yet another kiss that felt like their first. _Her_ first. Rin was strong and stable as a thousand year-old tree, so Haruka leaned her weight against her as she kissed and was kissed.

“You’re amazing,” Rin whispered into her ear.

“You don’t even know me.”

The words only made sense when Haruka said them out loud. In a wave of realization they pulled apart, and stared at each other from an arm’s length away. Suddenly there was an ocean between them.

“I know you a little bit,” Rin argued.

“Yeah, maybe, but not well enough to know if I’m amazing or not.”

“Come on, Haru.”

“I’m not mad or anything. I just don’t want you to make this into something it’s not.”

“Yet?”

Haruka didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure how to. She grabbed her stuff and got ready to leave.

“Wait, Haru. We should talk about this.”

“Can we do it somewhere else? I feel like I’m suffocating in here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Rin grabbed her stuff, too, and before Haruka could take another step, she grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “I know somewhere we can go.”

Haruka gripped Rin’s hand harder than she meant to. She let herself be dragged like a child wherever Rin was to take her—it could’ve been heaven, it could’ve been hell, it could’ve been somewhere in between or nowhere at all. As long as Haruka’s hand was in Rin’s, as long as her back and fire hair were in sight, it didn’t matter. Rin led her through the darkened building, and then took a sharp turn and began climbing the stairs. Past the second floor, past the third floor, up even past the fourth. Haruka was nearly out-of-breath by the time they reached the very end of the stairwell, where they stood before a locked door that read “NO ROOF ENTRY.” Rin let go of Haruka’s hand and began rummaging through her bag. Haruka opened her mouth, but nothing came out, so she just stood silently and watched. Rin looked exhausted. Bags under her eyes. Tangles in her hair. A little bit pale. Like starlight.

She finally found her ID card and pulled it out. Then, with a quick and mischievous wink in Haruka’s direction, she turned to the door. She slid the card deftly between the door and the wall, and carefully began moving it up and down, her other hand on the doorknob. After about a minute, she heard a _click_ , and pulled the door wide open to let in the past-midnight chill.

“Wow,” Haruka said, voice hollow.

“A janitor taught me that trick. Nobody thinks it’ll actually work, and that’s why it’s so genius.” Rin propped the door open with her foot and reached her hand out again once more. “Come on.”

Haruka gripped her hand and together they walked out onto the roof. The air was sweet on her skin, refreshing. They moved toward the edge and then sat down—Haruka cross-legged, and bold stupid Rin with her legs hanging over the side of the building. For a few moments, they just stared up at the stars. They were so easy to see all the way out here. They could see to the other side of campus, where the library and dorm rooms cast little beacons of light. Haruka’s eyes were drawn back to her own dorm, where she imagined Makoto beautiful, sweet, asleep. Dreaming of her, probably. It would’ve taken her a long time to fall asleep. She was worried. The lake looked like a black mirror reflecting the moon and its stars back up at them. If Haruka had wanted to draw anything that wasn’t a person, it was this view. Of everything. Her fingertips brushed Rin’s; they provided each other with fake warmth.

“How do you feel?” Rin asked.

“How do I feel?” Haruka paused. “Weird.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“I like being with you.”

“I like being with you, too.”

“But I like being with Makoto.”

“And I like being with Sousuke.”

“So this doesn’t make sense,” Haruka sighed.

“No. It doesn’t. But why does it have to?”

“I…”

“Maybe that’s the point, you know? To just follow what we really feel for once in our lives. Emotions don’t always have explanations.”

“They almost never do.”

“See? We agree.”

“I don’t know what I really feel, though.”

“Close your eyes. Clear your head. And that one thing left after everything else is gone is how you really feel.”

Haruka closed her eyes. Cleared her head.

The one thing left was deep, raw yearning.

“So? What do you feel?”

“You, first.”

Rin smiled.

“I feel like I’ll be miserable if we stop seeing each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make sense. But that’s what I feel.”

“I feel like I just really, really want you.”

“Okay.”

They kissed.

“But I would rather die than leave Makoto,” Haruka added. Rin blinked. Taken aback a bit at Haruka’s unflinching conviction and sudden melodrama.

“I…don’t want to leave Sousuke, either. She’s good for me.”

“So…”

“So.” Rin grabbed one of Haruka’s hands and brought it to her lips, eyes peering out over her kingdom. “We do this quietly.”  

That was okay for now. Haruka was good at being quiet. Hand still cupped in Rin’s, she leaned her head on Rin’s shoulder and closed her eyes. That feeling was still there. Yearning she’d never experienced before, so unsettling, jarring, sharp, that she had a stomachache, and was surely going to vomit again when she got home.


	13. if I could photograph just you

13

if I could photograph just you

Haruka was finally able to finish the nude sketch, and it was a piece of art so beautiful, authentic, and raw that she was afraid to show it to anybody. Especially Rin. _Especially_ Makoto. She ripped the page out of her sketchbook and hid the sketch in the space between the wall and her bed—the first time she’d ever willingly hidden her work. The next time Rin asked about it, Haruka decided she would lie, and say she had scrapped it in frustration after Rin tried to end it.

They agreed, both somewhat reluctantly, to lay low for a few days. They’d have to manage. They weren’t together, after all. They shouldn’t have had such overly romantic expectations for the thing developing between them. So, despite their hearts constricting with each word, they decided not to see each other for at least three days. Haruka was terrified that in those three days, without the overwhelming physical and sexual presence of Rin Matsuoka, she would realize that this really was just a lustful moment gone wrong, and she would have to grapple with losing control for a moment. Her fears faded, though. Each day, sunrise to sunset, “good night” to “good morning,” Haruka and Rin were messaging each other. It was in those scattered and abbreviated text messages that they started to quickly and unbashfully, without shame or any type of walls, reveal themselves. In the fervor of those messages and their consistency, Haruka realized that Rin was just as desperate to show her soul to Haruka as Haruka was to show Rin her own.

They drank each other up, word by word.

Haruka’s health returned to normal over the weekend. She apologized to Makoto for worrying her, and of course, Makoto was just relieved that Haruka was done with the vomiting, fatigue, and inexplicable weakness. Haruka had always had a shitty immune system, they realized, so even the smallest bug could make something act up. Haruka wondered how the emotions she felt so viscerally factored into it, but she didn’t bring this up to Makoto.

Things carried on as normal. Haruka and Makoto spent the rest of the weekend taking walks across campus, eating leisurely in the dining halls, finishing homework and sketches—Makoto was an education major. Her assignments were often more difficult in the traditional sense than Haruka’s, involving research and essays and lots of reading, and Haruka was happy to provide her moral support. Usually in the form of her presence. And tea, and the small home-cooked meals that she could afford to make in that tiny little kitchen. They worked wonders for Makoto’s morale and wonders for Haruka’s stomach.

As the week rolled into the weekend, with Haruka’s health completely recovered, things seemed to fall back into place.

Except everything was different.

Like a puzzle pulled apart, with all the pieces bent a little out of shape. You try to put the puzzle back together, but even when the pieces are in the right place, they’re not quite as _together_ as before. Haruka was glued to her phone like a post-millennial, and no matter how many messages from Rin she got, her heart skipped a beat each time. Each time she stepped out of her dorm she was afraid of running into Rin and what that might do to her nerves—even worse would be to run into Sousuke. Haruka hardly knew her, and that made it so much harder.

Despite the normalcy, the finishing assignments and going to class and getting meals with beautiful Nagisa and ending the nights in Makoto’s arms, Haruka felt the world distorting. Makoto didn’t look the same anymore. She didn’t feel the same. Each time she looked at her, Haruka hated herself a little bit more. Because there was nothing more selfish than what she was doing. There was no doubt, _no doubt, no fucking doubt in the world_ , that she was in love with Makoto and would absolutely positively fall apart without her. She’d loved Makoto forever and would love Makoto forever with timeless ageless infinite love. But she wanted Rin, too. What she wanted out of Rin, she still wasn’t quite sure. Follow your emotions, Rin told her, over and over. It doesn’t have to make sense. Let your heart lead you.

But wasn’t it a sign of strength to deny your heart when it’s wrong?

Because the heart isn’t always right.

That was the mistake in Rin’s logic—assuming the heart was always right.

Haruka knew her heart was wrong, but she was listening anyway, and that was fucked up. Makoto didn’t deserve that selfishness from the person she gave everything to. Haruka was just doing everything she wanted. Without thinking about the consequences.

Though, that wasn’t totally true—

Her mind was riddled with the consequences every time her phone buzzed.

Haruka had gotten frighteningly good at internalizing her negative emotions, and letting them eat her alive without letting anyone else see until it was too late.

Everything catches up with you.

 

* * *

 

On Thursday night, Rin asked Haruka to meet her at the campus bar. She could bring Makoto if she wanted—all Rin really wanted was to dance.

By this point they’d grown into a fabricated intimacy built on the fibers of the secrets they’d revealed in their daily conversations. Haruka knew things about Rin, the types of things she hadn’t really learned about Makoto until much longer into the relationship. She wanted to be a photographer because her father had been a photographer, and had instilled the love early—he’d died when Rin was very young. She had a younger brother who she loved very much. Her favorite color was red. She loved cats and had started her photography career by photographing the cats in her neighborhood growing up. She got competitive easily, in even the most mundane things, and her brother resented her for it. She liked math. She joked that she would’ve been a mathematician if not for her father (Haruka denied this, pointing to the obvious and borderline prodigal talent Rin had for photography). She loved horror movies and couldn’t stand anything romantic because it made her cry too easily. She cried at almost everything. Happy, sad, feeling nothing at all, she cried. She was a very bad drunk. She liked to smoke cigarettes to calm herself down. She’d realized she was gay very young. She was out and proud to her family. She was a horrible show-off; it went hand-in-hand with her competitiveness.

All this and more.

Intimacy through technological advances and sheer will.

Haruka wasn’t very good at revealing herself, but she tried. She really did.

_She wanted Rin to know her and feel her, and want her despite everything_.

She told Rin that, of course, she would go to the bar. She would dance with Rin if Rin said she wanted to dance with her. Even if Sousuke was there, even if Makoto was there.

Makoto couldn’t be there, as it turned out. Haruka couldn’t quite remember the reason. She went alone, knowing that Nagisa would be there tonight. Maybe with Rei. Things had supposedly been going well between them. Haruka didn’t want to drink anything, she wouldn’t need alcohol to be drunk tonight, her nerves were already coming alive at the thought of seeing Rin again. She prayed to every god she could think of that Sousuke wouldn’t be there.

By the time Haruka arrived, it was late and the dance floor was already filled and chaotic. The bar was crowded, people were yelling to hear each other, and Haruka was much too sober. Her introvertedness made her want to slink back to her room and avoid expending all this exhausting energy. She moved in slowly, determined but uncertain. It was dark and tinged red. Already her head was starting to ache. She couldn’t see Rin anywhere. But, after a few moments, she noticed some different familiar faces—Rei and Nagisa, sitting in a booth in the corner. They were on the same side, speaking in hushed tones, both pink and smiling like school girls. They were holding hands under the table.

In the next moment, Nagisa saw Haruka. She leapt from her seat, dragging Rei behind her, and threw her arms around her.

“Haru-chan! You came again!”

“Hi, Nagisa. Rei.”

“Good to see you,” Rei replied, clearly a bit drunk. Haruka smiled, while Nagisa held her hands and grinned up at her.

“Who are you here with? Where’s Mako-chan?”

“It’s just me.”

“Just you? You didn’t even text me,” she pouted.

“Sorry.”

“Are you feeling better? I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I am, yeah. Thanks.”

* * *

 

“Excuse me.”

_Excuse me._

A voice like a shooting star.

 

* * *

 

Rin had her arm on Haruka’s elbow, and was throwing her charming smile at Nagisa and Rei. They all stared at her, startled.

“Do you mind if I steal her away for a bit?”

“Haru-chan?” Nagisa gaped. Then she glanced at Haruka—and Haruka wasn’t sure what to do. In the silence, Rin winked at Nagisa and Rei, and dragged Haruka away. Her hand was sweaty and warm, clinging to Haruka’s fingers. She pushed through the crowd, parting the seas for Haruka, and pulled pulled pulled until they reached the center of the dance floor. She walked with the confidence of a movie star, the grace of a queen, the power of an empress. Finally, she stopped, and whirled around. Her cheeks were red and her lips bright pink, and her smile was like neon. Haruka smiled back, both of her hands now gripped in Rin’s.

“I’m glad you made it,” Rin cried.

“Me, too.”

“Sorry about that—I just saw you and couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay. Nagisa won’t mind.”

“I really am glad you made it.”

Just to make sure Haruka had really heard her.

They couldn’t be too conspicuous with their affection. They were surrounded by other students, and if even one saw them and spread the rumors, it could be catastrophic. So they stayed “platonic.” Holding hands. Staring. Rin, a bit tipsy, started to dance, swinging Haruka’s arms in a genuine attempt to get her to join. Haruka wasn’t big on dancing and she certainly wasn’t very good, but if Rin moved her, she would move.

“Come on! You’re too beautiful to not dance,” Rin screamed over the music. Haruka blushed and tried to infuse her movements with more energy, but she was too sober to be comfortable. She gripped Rin’s hands for dear life. This was not her idea of fun.

Until the next song came on.

As soon as the intro began, every single person on the dance floor screamed. Rin pulled Haruka in closer and moved her hips emphatically, and in this familiarity, in this closeness, knowing the melody as well as she did, Haruka began to move as well. And when the lyrics began, everyone, including her, was singing along.

“Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade. Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away.”

They weren’t dancing well, not like some of the other students twisting their hips like professionals. Rin and Haruka were clumsy and too happy to really dance. They just moved together.

“And when the night falls, loneliness calls.”

Rin lifted her arm, and Haruka twirled beneath it. They laughed, they leaned against each other, they let themselves be rocked in the crowd.

“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the _heat_ with somebody. Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody. With some-body who loves me.”

Over and over they sang at each other, until Haruka’s throat was sore and her chest ached. As the song came to an end, she collapsed against Rin’s chest, breathless with laughter, and Rin squeezed her and rocked her.

“Do you want a drink?” she whispered in her ear. Haruka shook her head, barely able to speak. “Okay, well do you want to come out for a smoke with me?”

Haruka nodded, so Rin took her hand and led her off the dance floor and out onto the patio. With a deep, clean breath, Haruka followed her to the same bench they’d sat on the first time they’d been here together. And just like last time, Rin pulled out two cigarettes, and lit both of them—

 

* * *

 

_Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes._

 

* * *

 

There were only a few people out today. Almost everyone was inside. As Haruka smoked her cigarette, she inched closer to Rin, until their shoulders, their thighs, their dreams brushed. In the darkness, Rin grabbed her hand and held it. Softly. They were silent. They didn’t feel the need to say anything—they wanted to sit and smoke in silence, in happy confused silence. Haruka got bored of the cigarette about halfway through, so she crushed it on the bench and let it fall to the ground. She’d pick it up later, she said to herself, but for now she couldn’t move. She could feel Rin watching her. It made her feel light and powerful. To have someone as captivating as Rin—captivated.

“What are you thinking about?” Rin asked softly. Haruka finally turned to face her.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

Haruka nodded.

“Then I’ll think of nothing, too.”

Rin leaned forward. Haruka opened her mouth and closed her eyes in anticipation. But the kiss never came. She let her eyes drift open again, and Rin was right there, open lips hovering above hers, eyes heavy and overwhelmed. She brought her hand up to Haruka’s cheek, and traced the line of her lips with her thumb. Her touch was like free-falling. Haruka closed her eyes again, to feel her fingers better, to feel her breath in her mouth better. The kiss eventually came: slow, sweet, _full of thirst_. But it was short. Rin pulled away and rubbed her eyes.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Haruka’s voice was quieter than she’d meant it to be. “What’s wrong?”

Rin was smiling now, and she looked at Haruka out of the corner of her eyes and brought to cigarette back to her lips.

“You’re absurdly beautiful, you know?”

“Me?” She squeezed Rin’s fingers harder, as Rin’s gaze flickered back up to the sky, the way it tended to. Especially at night. “You’re more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Sure, but…I have to try so hard. I want people to look at me. I want to be beautiful and I want people to think that I am. But you—you’re breathtaking without even trying.”

“How do you know I’m not trying?”

“Because…just look at you.”

Here she stopped, and grazed Haruka’s cheek, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned in again.

“Just look at you.”

“Straight out of your dreams, right?”

Rin kissed her. Hard. Harder than Haruka had been expecting. She squeezed her eyes tight.

“If I could photograph just you every minute of every day, I would,” she murmured. “You make it so hard to photograph anything else. Everything becomes so ugly.”

“Rin.” Haruka stopped her, right before she kissed her again. “Someone might see.”

Obediently, Rin pulled away, smile on her tobacco-stained lips. She took another drag, and Haruka noticed tears at the corners of her eyes. She reached up to touch them.

“You cry really easily.”

“I did warn you.”

“I don’t understand what you have to cry about.”

“You. Right now. Staring at me like that.” She crushed her cigarette. Eyes back to the sky. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

Voice breaking. Shattering. Sending tremors through Haruka’s heart.

* * *

 

_How do I tell you, convince you, of what I feel?_

_That you’re art to me, too._


	14. we can be seen together, right?

14

we can be seen together, right?

 

That weekend, at Haruka’s request, Nagisa came over and they got high.

Nagisa was a buffer. When Haruka was with her, she didn’t have to experience the overwhelming conflict of loving one person and falling in love with another. There was no Makoto and no Rin. No lust, no desire. She didn’t have to look Makoto in the eyes and pretend nothing was wrong, everything was the same, the same the same the same. She didn’t have to look Rin in the eyes and try to convince herself that this was nothing. Nagisa was all smiles and unsolicited, unexpectedly useful advice. She saw Haruka as she was, and she didn’t try to look any deeper than that. She liked Haruka. She never asked much of her. Haruka took solace in being alone with her and passing the bowl until the world was a bit duller and her mind a bit brighter. She liked to cover the smoke alarm in her room with a plastic bag and a hanger so she could just smoke inside. In the comfort of her own bedroom, where nobody could judge her for being an unapologetic and exhausted introvert.

Makoto was working with a study group on an important project. Nagisa and Haruka had the entire room and the entire stash to themselves. Nagisa stuffed the bowl at Haruka’s desk, in her tiny booty shorts and oversized t-shirt, while Haruka lay on her bed in nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants. Thinking, of course, of Rin Matsuoka. Nagisa was blaring her bubblegum pop music and usually Haruka hated it, but right then, at that moment, it was just loud and obnoxious enough.

“Here. Light me up.”

Nagisa handed Haruka a lighter and put the bowl to her lips. Haruka lit her up. Nagisa inhaled and began to cough, hiding her smile as she handed the bowl back to Haruka—she lit herself up. After they’d gone through it twice, Haruka stood up, stretched her arms, and forced Nagisa away from her desk.

“Go sit on the bed.”

“Are you gonna sketch me?”

“If you listen to me.”

“You know I’ll always be the sub to your dom.”

“Shut up.”

The room was starting to light up and saturate in rainbow fumes and kaleidoscope flashes. Nagisa was a vision, small and brilliant and full of movement, and Haruka needed to put her down onto paper in lines that curved and swirled all over the page. Her sketches were always of a different style when she got high—a little less realistic, a little more ethereal. More flowers and more colors. Softer.

“Sit however you feel most natural.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then, as if it really were natural, gorgeous little Nagisa turned onto her back and leaned her legs up against the wall, so that her head was hanging upside down over the edge of the bed. Her curls fell like vines in a hanging garden and her smile curled down like a glossy rainbow.

“That’s how you feel most natural?”

“Mhm. What do you think? Can you sketch me?”

“I have no idea where you came from, Nagisa.”

“Make it your best sketch yet, please.”

So Haruka began to sketch, ecstatic with the surreal but all-too-natural pose Nagisa had decided to strike for her.

“But you better hurry before the blood goes to my head and I pass out or something.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Haruka fell into delirious silence as the sketch whisked her away, while Nagisa wiggled her toes and sang along with the music—loud and slurred. Her hair was the most beautiful part of it all, so Haruka took her time with it. She wanted to get every single curl right. She drew with airy strokes in a way she normally didn’t. Every line was often so meticulous, deliberate, nothing out of place, but right now she let the pencil guide her instead of the other way around. When the rough outline was finished (very, very rough), she pulled out the expensive colored pencils Makoto had gotten her for her birthday a few years ago and began to color. Not necessarily accurately, but certainly innovatively. Her skin had to be pink, her hair even yellower than it already was, her eyes neon—this was Nagisa as she truly was.

“You’re like a princess,” Haruka mumbled.

“I know! Aren’t I?”

“I’m almost done.”

“What? Really? But you just started.”

“Actually—”

Here, Haruka checked the clock on her phone. A missed call from Makoto. Five unread messages from Rin. Nagisa had already had to raise her torso a few times to really keep from passing out.

“—it’s been an hour and a half.”

“What? No way!”

“Done.”

Nagisa, dazed and lightheaded, twisted and turned until she’d pulled herself up onto her knees on the bed and was reaching out for the sketchbook like a toddler asking to be picked up. Exhausted and fucking _starving_ , Haruka handed her the sketchbook and crawled onto the floor. She rolled onto her back and let the ceiling turn into fuzz. She was smiling at nothing. Nagisa was gushing incoherently, running her fingers all over the quick, colorful sketch. She was bouncing, up and down, making the bed shake.

“This is your best one of me yet,” she cried. Haruka kept on smiling.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Nagisa lowered herself to her butt and let her legs swing over the bed. She was blushing madly, in love with the sketch, madly in love with Haruka’s vision of her. Haruka closed her eyes, and so didn’t notice when Nagisa began to flip through the rest of the sketchbook.

“Do you wanna order pizza?” Haruka said. Nagisa didn’t hear her. “Nagisa.”

“Haru-chan, is this…?”

Voice suddenly concerned. Haruka pried her eyes open and propped herself up on her elbows. Nagisa was staring, brows furrowed, at the sketchbook.

“What?”

Nagisa turned the sketchbook around. It was the nude sketch of Rin. Haruka froze, dazed into silence, as the strength and energy flew from her body like a murder of crows. Nagisa didn’t look angry or even disappointed—just surprised.

“It’s Rin-chan, isn’t it?”

Haruka nodded. Nagisa pouted, and turned the sketchbook back over to stare longer.

“It’s really good.”

“I know.”

“Has Mako-chan seen this?”

“No.”

“That’s probably good,” Nagisa laughed dryly. She ran her fingers along Rin’s bare outline. She wasn’t smiling in that one. “Hey, Haru-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you fuck her?”

Haruka stared. She hadn’t been expecting this conversation for a long time, if ever.

As she began to cry, Nagisa patted the bed and gestured for Haruka to join her. She crawled onto the bed and put her head in Nagisa’s lap. Nagisa’s voice was suddenly calm, soothing, not the loud brazen symphony it often was.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“If I knew how to explain it.”

“Why don’t you try for me? I’m not going to judge you.”

“You promise?”

“Of course. You know I love you no matter what.”

Sniffles and incoherent mumbles for a few moments, while Nagisa stroked her hair and told her to close her eyes. The world spun when she did that, but somehow, it felt better than seeing the bright lights everywhere.

“How did it happen?”

“I don’t know. I just…we met and I felt like the world exploded.”

“Did she pressure you?”

Haruka started to nod, but then changed her mind and shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Nagisa pressed.

“Yes. If anything I pressured her.”

“Haru-chan…”

“It’s not because I want to. I love Makoto.”

“I know you do.”

“I don’t want to, I…”

“Then why?”

“Because when I was stopping myself, my heart started ripping in half.” Haruka grabbed one of Nagisa’s hands and squeezed it, squeezed it tight. “Like I was really, really thirsty, and she was the only hope of water.”

“What is it about her?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could explain it, so I could stop myself. Because _I love Makoto_ and I would die if I wasn’t with her.”

A sigh, as Nagisa continued stroking her hair with her free hand.

“Sometimes it’s really dangerous to let your heart dictate everything,” she said. “Sometimes you have to hurt while you do the right thing.”

“But you’re the one who told me I’m lacking inspiration. That I need to go back to basics.” Rin appeared behind her closed eyelids. “She’s basics.”

“And what’s Mako-chan?”

Haruka started to cry harder, because she couldn’t answer.

_Numbness? Routine? Normalcy? Just another limb? Nothing and everything all at once?_

“She told me to follow what I really feel. She said that sometimes emotions don’t make sense and that’s okay.”

“Haru-chan, do you know how many hearts Rin Matsuoka has broken? She’s used to living her life like that. You’re not. You’re deeper than that. You _use your head_ , not just your heart.”

“Then why can’t I even hear my head anymore?”

“I…don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly she was apologizing, over and over again, even though the person she should’ve been apologizing to was nowhere to be seen.

 

* * *

 

Nagisa promised that for the time being, she would keep Haruka’s secret. The way she saw it, she didn’t want to be the one to break both Makoto and Haruka’s heart—but she warned Haruka that if she didn’t get her shit together, if she didn’t figure out what she really wanted and really needed, Nagisa would do it for her. She was naturally bad at keeping secrets, and this was one she especially didn’t want to keep. Now Haruka felt even shittier about it all, because she was placing a burden that should have been hers alone onto Nagisa’s narrow shoulders. And she knew Nagisa wasn’t bluffing; she was more sensitive than she let on, and she would definitely tell Makoto eventually. It was the goodness in her, a goodness that Haruka now believed was lacking in herself. She made a vow to herself, that she would break things off with Rin, that soon—soon—very very soon—she would finally tell Rin that she had been right after their first kiss. That they should stop.

But for the time being, Haruka didn’t do anything.

Her heart was in a state of delicacy and she wasn’t going to risk the shatter and all its consequences. Sickening.

She and Rin started seeing each other more often after Rin cunningly gained access to the office of a professor helping her with her projects. He’d given her the key to the office, telling her she could study or work on her portfolio there whenever she wanted—it was in the art building, which was frequented often by both of them. Rin nabbed the professor’s teaching schedule and office hours, and after two weeks, it was practically part of their routine to slip into the office between class and fuck like there was no tomorrow. They didn’t need that time for conversation or confession; they used their phones for that, and neither of them was sentimental enough to require deep in-person looking-into-your-eyes words. They usually only had thirty minutes, maximum, so they used to that time to drag each other up to the tops of mountains and learn each and every curve. Ever pleasure point.

Do you like it when I lick you here? No, much better here—how does this feel? I’ll keep doing that then. Fuck, you’re beautiful, I wish I could hear you more—harder.

They gained profound new skills. How to come, _really_ come, quietly. How to eat pussy on a messy desk. How to fuck in an office chair, or against a bookshelf. After three weeks (maybe four, they started losing track), they knew each other’s bodies so well that when they were in a rush, they could make each other orgasm in ten minutes. They always walked out of the office three minutes apart. Usually Rin left first. Always in more of a hurry.

They decided to stop meeting at the bar on Thursdays, especially now that Nagisa knew. Haruka didn’t tell Rin about that.

The passion that festered between them started much hotter than it should have, and before they’d realized it, it was a forest fire engulfing their every breath, their every blink, their every pout and puckered lip. Haruka had never experienced something so consuming, not even with Makoto. Each time Rin kissed her, she felt her soul brighten and her breath escape from her open lips. The intensity never waned. Each time was like an entirely new adventure, an entirely new mountain to climb, a new river with new currents that washed over them cold and fast and hard.

Once, while they were on the desk and Rin had her fingers inside Haruka, she brought up the subject of hanging out more.

“We can be seen together, right? Like, as friends?”

Haruka was breathless, but tried to nod.

“So we should have more meals together,” Rin continued. “Take walks across campus—”

“It’s— _fuck_ —cold as shit.”

“Damn, you’re right. Oh, right there?”

“Fuck, right there.”

“Okay, so we’re gonna start having lunch together more. Sound good?”

“Yes, fine—shut up.”

“That’s a good girl.”  

So they started having lunch more, up to five times a week, and it became public knowledge that Haruka Nanase and Rin Matsuoka were suddenly very close friends.

 

* * *

 

Haruka was finding it more and more difficult to look Makoto directly in the eyes after each time she fucked Rin. But life continued with her as it always had. Haruka didn’t mind the routine so much anymore—now that she had Rin. She liked still coming home to Makoto. Because Makoto loved her, and she loved Makoto, and after all these years, her body fit perfectly against Makoto’s.

 

* * *

 

“I know I sound like your mom, but I really am happy you’re making more friends.”

On a quiet Thursday night, Haruka was nestled between Makoto’s legs, back against her chest, while Makoto absentmindedly braided her hair. She was nibbling on pretzels while _Friends_ ran, endless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re branching out. Being more social. I’m proud of you.”

“You should get me a trophy.”

“I really should.” She blew playfully into Haruka’s ear. “I think Rin’s good for you. She’s pulling you out of your shell.”

“She’s so emotional, though. It’s draining.”

“Is that so?” Makoto laughed. “Bet you and Sousuke would have a lot to talk about.”

“I dunno. Sousuke seems scary.”

“Oh, don’t say that. She can just come off kind of intimidating, but she’s really a sweetheart.”

“What kinda doctor does she wanna be again?”

“Orthopedic surgeon, I think.”

“Right. The ones with all that money.”

“Stop!” Makoto pinched her arm, enough to make her yelp, and then kissed her temple.

“Sorry. You’re right.”

“Babe. I just came up with a great idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Why don’t we do a double date?”

Haruka pulled herself forward and turned to face Makoto, with much more surprise than was normal. Makoto was smiling at her sweetly.

“What, like…?”

“Me and you, and Rin and Sousuke. We could just go out for dinner and drinks or something. How fun does that sound?”

“Oh. Um.”

“You’re having lunch with Rin tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Ask her about it. We could do tomorrow night.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“Hey, Haru. If you don’t want to—”

“No, no, let’s do it. You’re right. It’ll be fun.”

“Great.”

She leaned forward and kissed her. Haruka let herself be kissed, and spiraled into a silent panic.


	15. could never do what you do, though

15

could never do what you do, though

 

“Makoto wants to _what?_ ” Rin nearly spit out her food, caught between shock and amusement. Haruka shrugged and swirled her soup aimlessly. They were across from each other in a booth in the corner of the dining hall, comfortably out of earshot of any other students.

“I didn’t know what to say. What excuse would I have to not ask you?”

“And what excuse do I have to say no?” Rin scoffed.

“She really thinks that it’ll be good, though. Get me to socialize.”

“Sou’s gonna love the idea, too.”

“Sousuke kind of scares me.”

“Scares you?” Rin was laughing at Haruka now. She pouted and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Aw, babe, I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just so funny—Sou wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a fly. And I’m having sex with her girlfriend.”

“True enough.” Rin took a deep breath and tried to meet Haruka’s fleeting gaze; Haruka wouldn’t allow it. “Come on, I really am sorry. And trust me. It’ll be fine. We’ll just go out to dinner for a few hours and call it a night. Nothing to stress about.”

“But you’re horrible at lying.”

“I mean…I won’t _really_ be lying about anything. Just going out with my girlfriend and two friends. Right?”

“God, you are so full of shit.”  

“And yet you put up with me.”

Something about the way Rin spoke, the way she always looked like she was about to laugh, the way she pushed Haruka’s buttons just for the hell of it, made it hard not to smile.

 

* * *

 

The truth was that Rin could hardly stand the idea. Sousuke and Haruka, both in the same place, eating across the table from each other, and Makoto was the fucking icing on the cake. She couldn’t even understand her own jealousy. Who was she jealous of? What did she want? ‘All eyes on her’ was the most probable answer to that. What kind of horrible, twisted rage was brewing in her to make her dread this dinner so much? She hadn’t been lying to Haruka. When she’d first told her, she really hadn’t thought it was a big deal. But then she’d gone back to her dorm, where Sousuke was taking a nap.

She closed the door, slowly, so as not to wake her. Clearly Sousuke had been trying to wait for her to get back from lunch—an easy, chilled out Friday afternoon like they usually had. Sousuke took Fridays off from studying. But she’d fallen asleep. The lights were off, but the sun crept in through the closed blinds, covered Sousuke in scattered, horizontal stripes. And the second Rin saw her, her heart caved in on itself. So different from Haruka. If Rin was being honest with herself, she didn’t even know what Haruka truly felt for her. She wanted her, she wanted to spend time with her, she was willing to go behind her perfect serious girlfriend’s back for her. But Sousuke—Rin was certain about Sousuke. Sousuke loved her. Sousuke loved her more than anything.

Rin covered her mouth with her hand and crawled into the bed. She shouldn’t have bothered with being quiet. As soon as she got into bed Sousuke was awake, wrapping her arms around her. Eyes shut, teeth gnawing at each other, Rin forced herself not to cry.

“Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi, Sou.”

“How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Mm. Good.” She kissed Rin’s forehead, still half-asleep. Sousuke was always sweetest just after waking up, moving with halting affection and speaking in musty whispers.

“We’re not busy tonight, right?”

“No. Why?”

“Makoto wants to do a double date.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t see why not. I haven’t actually been social in weeks.”

“How can you be with your nose always buried in that book?”

“Aw, you think I’m sexy when I study.”

“You’re right. I do.”

With one more groan to pull herself out of drowsiness, Sousuke turned Rin onto her back and settled between her legs. Rin spread herself out and closed her eyes, until Sousuke’s lips on her neck felt like flying. She felt sweet, she felt right, she felt like she was meant to be fucking Sou. As they fucked in the chilled afternoon sun, wrapped up in the covers, Rin held on _tight_ , arms like snakes around Sousuke’s neck, and had to keep her eyes open to remind herself who it was fucking her.

 

* * *

 

They went to a nice Italian place. Sousuke’s recommendation. Prior to her days of constant studying and back-breaking research in the lab, she’d spent more time than she should’ve frolicking around the city. Makoto and Haruka on one side, Rin and Sousuke on the other. They were clearly in pairs, and clearly very different pairs. Haruka and Makoto seemed more comfortable together somehow, surrounded by a halo, not talking much because they could understand each other with furtive glances and light touches. To an arm, a leg, a finger. Rin and Sousuke seemed fresher, in-touch with each other but not used to the sensation. Rin thought she was going to have a panic attack when Makoto ordered for Haruka, without even consulting her, much to the pleasure and relief of Haruka. Meanwhile, Rin deliberately ordered something Sousuke _didn’t_ recommend, because she could.

It wasn’t as awkward as Haruka had been expecting. The three of them all knew each other, after all. It was only the first real time she and Sousuke were interacting with each other. Despite her harsh expression, deep, tactless voice, drooping eyes and downturned lips, Sousuke was nice. She asked Haruka about her major and if she liked school and what she wanted to do, and she didn’t stop listening when Haruka answered. That was a talent all in its own: the ability to listen to someone. Haruka was endeared.

“What’s the ultimate dream, then? After school?” Sousuke asked, nibbling at a piece of bread. Rin and Makoto were both entranced in this conversation between their lovers. Underneath the table, across from Haruka, Rin slowly stretched her leg out.

“Open my own gallery, I guess. Show my own art on my terms.”

“Wow.”

“Have my art in museums, too. Traveling exhibits.”

“Sounds like you have a very clear image of your future.”

“Accomplishing it is a whole other thing, though,” Haruka said.

“She’s being modest,” Makoto interrupted. “She could probably do it with her eyes closed—as long as she actually reaches out.”

As Haruka blushed and looked down at her plate, Sousuke smiled. Non-judgmental. Nothing but intrigue in her green eyes. Haruka was drawn back up to them. Sousuke was beautiful and intimidating, and she and Rin beside each other looked like goddesses. She wanted to sketch them both, sitting just like that, but she hadn’t brought her sketchbook.

“What about you? Med school?” she asked.

“That’s the goal, at least.”

“It sounds hard.”

“It is.”

“She’s studying all the fucking time,” Rin whined.

“Just until I take the MCAT. Then I’m pretty much home-free until summer.”

“What’s in summer?” Haruka asked.

“I have to do all my applications.”

“Oh.”

“Then I do my interviews next fall, get my acceptances in the spring before graduation. Hopefully.”

“You seem really smart. You’ll probably get in.”

“That’s really nice of you to say. Thanks.”

“She’s not gonna get in just anywhere. Sou’s gonna go to Columbia. Or _Harvard_ ,” Rin announced.

“Shut up,” Sousuke laughed. “It all depends on my MCAT score.”

“What’s your GPA?” Haruka asked. Without meaning to. Sousuke stared at her for a moment. “S-sorry. You don’t have to—”

“4.0.”

Makoto nearly choked on her drink. Haruka tapped her back lightly.  

“So you’re a genius then,” Haruka replied evenly.

“No. Not at all,” Sousuke smiled. “I just work my ass off.”

“Right.”

“Could never do what you do, though. Or Rin, for that matter. Art is lost on me.”

“I bet you can at least appreciate good art when you see it,” Haruka pointed out. As Sousuke began to shake her head, Rin’s leg finally touched Haruka’s beneath the table—shivers ran like lightning up her spine, and for a moment, she withdrew. But then she met Rin’s eyes, hard, determined, and pressed back until she began to tingle. Neither of them was worried for even a second that Sousuke or Makoto would notice.

“No. She really is hopeless,” Rin said. Haruka caught her breath.

They tripped into silence.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Rin suddenly announced. She stood up hastily, dropped her napkin onto the table, and turned briskly to the bathroom. Haruka and Sousuke both watched her walk away, while Makoto, oblivious and lovely, sipped from her wine.

After an extremely filling dinner that left them lethargic and happy and wine-buzzed, Sousuke suggested they go out for drinks. A night on the town, she said. Might as well, now that they were off-campus and in the city. Haruka and Rin exchanged quiet, frustrated glances, but before Haruka could even start to give her classic ‘I’m tired please take me home,’ Makoto clapped her hands together.

“That sounds like so much fun. Right, Haru?”

And Haruka could never look into those emerald eyes, see that purest of souls, and refuse because she would’ve preferred to spend as little time as possible with her girlfriend and the girl she was fucking in the same vicinity.

“Sure.”

“I know a great place down the street. Everyone got your IDs?”

Sousuke led them confidently, tall but grasping Rin’s hand tightly, down the street. A few steps behind, Makoto and Haruka walked, side-by-side, Haruka gripping Makoto’s arm gently. The silhouettes before her were out-of-sync, but wonderfully so. She thought about Rei and Nagisa, so different, but always in-sync somehow. Not like Rin and Sousuke. She decided she was glad she hadn’t brought her sketchbook, because she couldn’t bear staring at them for too long—her eyes would begin to sting and water. Makoto was absurdly warm.

They turned in through a narrow, dark doorway with a bouncer at the front checking IDs. There wasn’t a line, which was surprising this late on a Friday night. Sousuke turned over her shoulder, predicting their concerns.

“Not a lot of people know about this place. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m not complaining.”

The bouncer nodded them inside, and they piled in, single-file, Haruka gripping both Makoto and Rin’s hands. Her arms burned, right where they met her shoulder, and she nearly tripped as she trotted at Rin’s heels into the club.

It was lowkey. Maybe because of what Sousuke was saying, maybe because it was early. Haruka wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t about to question it. This was exactly the type of atmosphere she preferred. No loud vibrating music, no obnoxious drunks on the dance floor, no men to grope her ass. She wouldn’t have to scream for them to hear her. They sat down at the bar, Sousuke on one end, Makoto on the other, Rin and Haruka sandwiched in between. They sat close enough that their shoulders brushed, but not so close so as to arouse any unwanted attention. They looked enough like friends. Before Haruka and Makoto (neither of whom liked shots) could protest, Sousuke ordered a round of tequila shots. Haruka was really a lightweight. As the bartender poured the shots, Rin threw a sexy, knowing smile over her shoulder, letting her tongue curl slightly up onto her lip. Haruka pursed her lips. Not a smile she could say no to, not a smile she could resist, not a smile she had been able to get out of her brain since the first day of class.

“How we doing?” Sousuke called, leaning over the bar. They all had full shot glasses and limes in front of them.  

“Not thrilled. But fine,” Makoto responded.

“Once it’s down, you’ll feel great,” Rin winked. They lifted their glasses.

“To art,” Sousuke said.

“And medical school,” Makoto added.

“To art and medical school then. Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses on the counter and knocked them back. Haruka pursed her lips, thought she was about to throw it right back up, but Makoto brought the lime up to her lips.

“Suck on it,” she whispered into her ear. Haruka did as she was told, and managed to hold the tequila down. Makoto kissed her cheek, lips full of laughter. Though her eyes were watering and she was squinting, leaning into Makoto, Haruka could feel Rin watching her. And Sousuke watching her, just a little further down. They were probably holding hands under the bar, just like Haruka and Makoto were. 

_ Fuck. _

_How did we make it this far?_

“Can I have another?” Haruka called to the bartender.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to get plastered.  


	16. will you let me sketch you sometime?

16

will you let me sketch you sometime?

 

Haruka really was a horrible drunk.

All the nasty, sarcastic thoughts that roamed around aimlessly in her head had nothing left holding them back and she was ruthlessly, indiscriminately mean. For no real reason, except that maybe she spent so much energy being quiet most of the time. Alcohol brought out the worst parts of Haruka, the parts she’d spent years destroying. Tequila was especially bad. Beer not too bad, wine not too bad. But tonight she was drinking tequila.

After an hour, three shots, and two margaritas, Haruka couldn’t see, speak, or think straight. She was in a euphoric state of not having to worry about anything, being surrounded by beautiful people that she cared about. But thank god she didn’t have to dance—there was no dance floor here. From the bar they moved to a circular booth, where Haruka was squeezed in between Makoto and Rin. Makoto was tipsy, but not drunk, and she had an arm around Haruka’s shoulder. Happy. Underneath the table, Rin had her hand on Haruka’s thigh—her fingers on the inside of her leg, making her entire body tingle. She wanted Rin to be touching her more, but she didn’t want to lift her head off Makoto’s broad, steady shoulder. She wondered what Rin was doing to Sousuke under the table. Drunkenness apparently made her jealous, too.

“I want another drink,” Haruka mumbled.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Makoto laughed.

“Oh, let her do what she wants! Are you her mom or something?” Rin cried. Also very drunk.

“Hey, Rin, come on. Don’t be a bitch,” Sousuke said. She’d had about as much to drink as Rin, but her tolerance seemed a lot higher. She had a goofy smile on her face and her eyelids were heavy, but her words weren’t all that slurred and she was of sound mind. Not like Rin or Haruka.

“Hey! Waiter! Bring her a vodka cran,” Rin cried at the passing waiter.

“No! I hate cranberries.”

“Fine, gin and tonic.”

“No.”

“Rum and coke?”

“Fine.”

“Two rum and cokes, then.”

The waiter, exasperated, went back to the bar to retrieve their drinks. Haruka and Rin were both being evident, obnoxious handfuls. Haruka’s head was starting to spin, so she closed her eyes and leaned more of her weight against Makoto’s shoulder. And, as if digging deep into her drunken soul and pulling out only her most primitive desires, Rin moved her hand further up the inside of Haruka’s leg, until Haruka couldn’t breathe through the debilitating sensations. The room was closing in on her. She was impatient regarding her next drink.

“Haru, are you sure you want another? You don’t want to go home?” Makoto whispered in her ear. Eyes still closed, cheek warm, Haruka vehemently shook her head—akin to a toddler refusing a nap. Makoto began brushing her hair back from her face, fingertips cold on her skin.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Haruka pushed her hand away, opened her eyes, and sat up. Makoto was visibly startled, hands frozen in the air.

“Haru—?”

“I just want another drink,” she declared. Rin squeezed her leg, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting.

“Okay, okay. Whatever you want, love.”

Makoto gave a sweet, quiet smile, and leaned back in the booth. Later, when Haruka was sober and reflecting on this moment, she would feel guilty, because Makoto was hurt.

“Why can’t you be sweet to me like that?” Rin directed at Sousuke. She raised her eyebrows, leaning her elbows on the table.

“Excuse me? I am plenty sweet to you. You just never notice.”

“Not like Makoto is.”

“Then why don’t you date Makoto?”

“You have the most interesting eyes,” Haruka interjected. Rin, Sousuke, and Makoto all turned to stare at her. But she was staring, unflinchingly, at Sousuke. Rin’s fingers stopped teasing the inside of Haruka’s leg.

“Sorry, what? Me?” Sousuke replied.

“Yes. I want to sketch you.”

A tense silence fell over them—half-drunk, half-sober. Sousuke seemed so taken aback she couldn’t formulate a response. In the next moment, Rin withdrew her hand completely from Haruka’s leg, crossed her arms, and stared up at the ceiling. Haruka kind of liked that she was making Rin jealous—she liked that pettiness. So different from both herself and Makoto, perhaps the least petty person she knew.

“Will you let me sketch you sometime?”

“O-okay. Yeah, sure.”

“You don’t even like when I try to photograph you,” Rin mumbled. Sousuke glared at her, embarrassed, frustrated, but said nothing. As the waiter walked by and deposited their two rum and cokes on the table, Haruka grabbed it and sipped. Rin didn’t touch hers. Instead, she pushed Sousuke out of the booth.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she declared. With a swift backward glance at Haruka. A loud, clear message.

“I’ll come with you.”

Haruka followed as expected. Rin didn’t respond. She just stormed to the bathroom, Haruka at her heels. Leaving Makoto and Sousuke alone at the table.

There was hardly a line. They slipped into the bathroom, and then Rin pushed her way into the largest stall. Haruka followed her into it and locked the door behind them.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Rin cried. She sat down on the toilet and started to take her piss. Haruka stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“‘You have the most interesting eyes.’ Are you fucking kidding me?”

“She does.”

“Could you be anymore of an ass-kisser?”

“I’m not.”

“Why do you want Sousuke to like you so bad?”

“I _don’t_.”

“You fucking liar.”

“ _I’m not_.”

“Yes you are.”

“Why are you being such a fucking bitch? Why are you jealous? She’s _your_ girlfriend.”

“Fucking hell.” Rin stood from the toilet and flushed. Neither of them made any moves to leave the stall, even as they heard other women flowing in and out of the bathroom.

“You’re drunk,” Haruka announced.

“And the sky is fucking blue. You’re drunk, too.”

“Stop being mean.”

“Stop flirting with my fucking girlfriend.”

“Would you rather I openly flirt with you?”

“I’d rather you watch your mouth.”

Even drunk, Haruka wasn’t good at being yelled at—Rin’s brow was furrowed, lower lip jutting out in a furious pout, teeth gritting (she could tell by the knots in her jaw). Haruka had never seen Rin like this, not with her. She leaned against the door and tried to blink away the tears, they were stinging, they were blurring her vision more than it already was.

“Oh, give me a break,” Rin scoffed. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“And I’m not blind, Haru. I can literally see you crying. That’s usually my job.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Listen—look, okay, I’m sorry, all right?” Rin stepped forward and tried to hug Haruka, but Haruka shook her away—not just because her hands were covered in piss. “I know, I’m just a drunk, jealous piece of shit.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“But you’re just being annoying.”

“Fuck you.”

Haruka couldn’t stand it anymore. She craved Makoto. Without waiting to see if Rin would follow, she threw open the stall door and left the bathroom, crawled over Sousuke, and curled up once more in Makoto’s arms. Drink in hand, sipping. A few minutes later, Rin followed, and with newly-washed hands, squeezed in next to Sousuke instead of next to Haruka, who was now between Makoto and Sousuke. Both tall, both warm, both with green eyes but of very different shades.

“How was your piss, princess?” Sousuke asked.

“Great. Next time I’ll do it in your mouth.”

“Ooh, temptress.”

“Are you ready to go home soon, Haru? You seem tired,” Makoto asked. This time, Haruka nodded. “Everything okay?” She nodded again and kept drinking.

 

* * *

 

_Keep drinking._

_Keep drinking._

 

* * *

 

The walk to the bus stop was nearly impossible. Haruka was leaning most of her weight on Makoto, hardly able to take sequential steps. Again, they trailed behind Sousuke and Rin, holding hands and swinging them like children. It was almost 2am, and it was perhaps the drunkest Haruka had ever been in her life. Hardly aware of where she was, who was helping her walk, what the world truly looked like behind the spinning and flashes of color. Dizzy, dizzy—she wanted to vomit, but Makoto kept telling her to wait. Wait until we’re on the bus. What bus? She just felt so _disgusting_ and _sad_ and her stomach hurt and her head was exploding. Someone was telling her they loved her.

_I love you, so, so much. More than I can ever say, I love you._

She liked hearing those words.

Someone was arguing—they’d stopped walking. They were at the bus stop. She was pale and swaying, and someone was arguing nearby.

“Look at Haru! She’s _way_ fucking drunker than I am.”

“Fine, just don’t smoke right before we get on the bus.”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking want.”

“Rin! You can’t always do whatever you fucking want!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because that’s not how the world _fucking_ works, you piece of shit.”

“Oh yeah?”

Haru felt an arm pull at her, so she let herself be pulled—and in the next second, Rin was kissing her. To make a point, in front of everybody, in front of her seething girlfriend, that she could, indeed, do whatever she fucking wanted. Haruka could taste the tequila on Rin’s lips, and was afraid that she was going to vomit right then and there. As Rin pulled away with a _smack!_ of her lips, Haruka stumbled backward, into Makoto’s open and waiting arms.

“Rin! What the hell?” Sousuke screamed.

“Don’t try me, Sou. Don’t.”

“Are you okay, Haru?” Makoto murmured. Haruka was shaken.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Can you hold it? Until we’re on the bus?”

She managed a nod, and bent over, clutching her stomach, about to cry yet again. Nothing was making sense and now the taste of Rin was on her mouth.

“Apologize to Haru,” Sousuke ordered.

“No.”

“It’s okay, Sou,” Makoto said softly. “She’s drunk. She can apologize tomorrow.”

“I’m apologizing _never_ ,” Rin spat.

“I’m really sorry,” Sousuke sighed.

“It’s okay. No worries. I just gotta get Haru to bed…”

 

* * *

 

She threw up on the entire bus ride, tears running down her cheeks and Makoto holding her hair back in the small bus bathroom. She didn’t remember getting back to her room, or the fact that she cried for an hour before finally falling asleep in Makoto’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Haruka’s head was pounding like never before when she woke up around noon the next day. The blinds were still shut and the lights were off, and at some point in the middle of the night she had kicked off her blankets, and was now in a cold sweat. World spinning, she clambered to drag the covers back over her body, before she realized that the reason she’d been woken up was by the ringing of her phone. Without checking the caller ID, she ripped it out of the charger by her bed and put it to her ear. Her voice was hoarse and gravelly; she could hardly recognize it.

“Hello?”

“Haru, you finally picked up.”

“Hi, Rin.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Me, too. We went a bit far last night.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much to drink in my life.”

“You were a lot,” Rin laughed.

“Me? Are you kidding?”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m calling.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t read or respond to my texts.”

“I probably wouldn’t have.”

“I’m so, so sorry about last night. For what I said in the bathroom, how I was acting, kissing you at the bus stop—”

“So that wasn’t a dream.”

“No, I actually did that.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s honestly kind of a blur.”

“Sousuke is still so pissed. She won’t talk to me.”

“Unsurprising.”

“It was fun up until then, though. Right?”

“Yeah, sure. I had fun.”

“You sound horrible. Get some more sleep.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll meet up later.”

“If you want.”

“I do want. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“Great. See you soon, babe.”

“Bye.”

She let her phone drop to the floor. Before she fell back asleep, she noticed a completely full cup of water by her bed with a post-it note attached.

_Drink some water please!!_

Haruka downed the entire glass, just as Makoto asked, and went back to sleep.


	17. want me to tell you what I want?

17

want me to tell you what I want?

 

Haruka still felt hungover when she woke up again three hours later. The glass by her bed was refilled, so she chugged it, and stared at the ceiling until it stopped spinning. She was afraid of opening the blinds—if it was sunny, the light would surely crack her brain and force her back into bed. The quiet surrounded her, held her, helped her out of bed and toward the bathroom. Since it was the middle of the day, the floor was quiet, and the bathroom was empty. She tried to throw up again, to try and rid herself of the nausea, and when it didn’t happen naturally she thrusted three fingers down her throat to induce it. Afterward, feeling much better, she took a dump and a long, hot shower to wash away the smell of tequila of bad decisions. Makoto had probably had a shit time last night, taking care of her, apologizing on her behalf. She couldn’t remember how obvious she’d been. Had she and Rin flirted too openly? Had Makoto noticed Rin teasing her underneath the table? More importantly, had she noticed the fleeting, longing glances Haruka had continuously been throwing in Rin’s direction? She assumed not. Makoto wasn’t great at that sort of thing. Only with Haruka—and only because she’d known her for so long.

After her shower, she called Makoto.

“Hey, Haru. Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I’m really sorry about last night.”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’re perfect.”

“I was probably mean.”

“Just drunk. It’s okay. You deserve to let loose every once in a while.”

“You’re way too nice to me,” Haruka smiled.

“Only as nice as I want to be.”

“Movie and takeout tonight?”

“Shit—I forgot to tell you. One of my professors is hosting a dinner at his house and I kind of have to go. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Go be intellectual.”

“I’m all yours tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

“I love you. Get some rest.”

“I love you, too.”

Haruka hung up, and then immediately called Rin.

“Hey there stranger.”

“Hi.”

“You already sound better.”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Not for you.”

“Can we meet at the art building? At like, eight?”

“Yeah, of course.”

When the conversation was over, Haruka brushed through her wet hair, staring at herself in the mirror. She hated how she looked. She hated the glimmer in her blue eyes, she hated the secrets hidden in the wrinkles of her forehead, how chapped her lips were because she’d been too drunk to put on chapstick. The bags under her eyes were terrible. Once her hair was tangle-free and she’d gotten enough of her reflection, she put on a t-shirt and dragged herself to her desk. And through the mugginess of her brain, she turned on her favorite playlist and began to sketch. She was working on another sketch of Makoto. Maybe this one could win an award, too. Or, at the very least, remind her why she hated looking at her reflection so much.

 

* * *

 

Fifteen text messages.

Six missed calls.

Even a note slipped under her door.

All from Rin, desperate to get ahold of her, but Sousuke knew that if she talked to Rin, she would say something regrettable. She was on edge, more irritable than usual, fucking _fuming_ after Rin humiliated her last night. It was one thing to be an asshole in private—that, Sousuke was accustomed to. It was another thing entirely to deliberately embarrass her in front of her friends, and take advantage of other people to do it. Rin had crossed a line, and Sousuke needed time and space to deal with it. She couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss. It played over and over in her head. Rin pulling drunk, practically unconscious Haruka away from Makoto, kissing her with closed eyes, then pushing her back. Like a nightmare, the kiss was there each time she closed her eyes. She’d barely slept at all last night. Sousuke was jealous and angry, but she couldn’t imagine Haruka’s shock. Surely she was trying to deal with this, too. Rin was inconsiderate of who she trampled to get what she wanted, and Sousuke had had enough. She was trying to figure out a way to approach the subject with Rin without starting another forest fire.

She would need at least a few days. She toyed with the idea of sending Rin a text, just to let her know that she needed her space for a bit. Not that she wanted to break up (just the thought made Sousuke sick to her stomach), but that she needed a few days to herself to cool down. But each time she picked up the phone to send the text, she felt a new wave of crimson rage. Studying was near impossible, but she forced herself, and after a few hours, she found the biological diagrams and chemical equations to be the perfect distraction.

If Sousuke were strong enough, she’d break up with Rin. Finally end it. Because Rin was horrible for her. They fought too much, Rin was emotionally manipulative and dramatic, Sousuke was sensitive and controlling. But Sousuke was weak. She knew Rin so well at this point. Knew exactly what to say for each mood, exactly how to act, exactly what buttons to push to calm her down and remind her of the love that undoubtedly flared and flickered between them.

She loved Rin. That was never in doubt.

But Rin was going to fucking destroy her.

 

* * *

 

Rin and Haruka’s sex that night was twisted and passionate. For the first time, Rin asked Haruka to choke her. At first, Haruka was timid, straddling Rin on the office desk and squeezing lightly on her neck. Rin shook her head and dug her nails into the wood.

“No, damn it, harder. Imagine me last night, saying that horrible shit to you. Choke me the way you wanted to then.”

Haruka squeezed harder, until Rin was gasping for breath, and then with one of her hands put her fingers inside Rin and fucked her at the same time. She came faster than she ever had before, and it was an explosive, volcanic orgasm. As Rin lay on the desk, coughing, wiping sweat from her forehead, Haruka scrambled off the desk and started to get dressed. Clumsy, tremors in her fingers, a knot in her stomach.

“Sorry,” Rin said hoarsely. “I just really needed that.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” Haruka replied, without looking at her. “You know that already.”

“Yeah…I do.”

        “Yeah.”

“Why are you getting dressed? You’ve only come once.”

“I’m tired.”

“Haru. Come here.”

Haruka didn’t move closer. Instead, unable to hold anything back any longer, she covered her face and squatted to the ground. She couldn’t bear Rin seeing her cry—she couldn’t fucking bear it. She heard Rin clamber off the desk and squat beside her, and she leaned into her chest when she wrapped her arms around her small, trembling body.

“I’m sorry,” Haruka muttered.

“Shh. Shut up. Just cry.”

Nothing felt right anymore. When Haruka had looked herself in the eyes and told herself that having an affair with Rin was right, because she felt it was right, because she wanted it, and why would her heart lead her so so astray, she had expected this to happen one day. But not like this, not in such an incomprehensible way. Her heart and her brain were speaking totally different languages, and she could understand neither of them. In her brain was a language that sounded like logic, guilt, resentment, terror and darkness. In her heart was a language that sounded like emotions, lust, pain, horrific longing. Makoto was everything to her, _everything_ to her, _everything to her_ , but there was nothing she wanted or needed more in that moment that _Rin’s_ arms around her.

She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to recover if she left Rin.

Or if Rin left her, for that matter.

As her crying began to die down, Rin pulled away to aggressively wipe her tears.

“Tell me what you need from me right now. Right at this moment. Do you want me to go? Do you want me to stay?”

“Don’t—don’t go,” Haruka heard herself say. Rin held her face, looked into her eyes, and smiled.

“Never. Unless you want me to. You have to know that, right?”

“What are we doing?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“You _don’t care?”_

“Listen. I can’t imagine _not_ being with you, so I’m not even going to bother trying. Unless you look me in the eyes and tell me that you want to stop, I’m going to be here.”

Haruka leaned forward a bit. Rin expertly took her cue, and kissed her. The kiss started light, gentle, but Haruka leaned more forward and Rin kissed her harder. Like it was both the first and last time. Like she was afraid Haruka was going to disintegrate, evaporate right there from her arms.

“Have you talked to Sousuke?” Haruka asked.

“No. I think she needs time. She’ll come around.”

“Did you…apologize?”

“Of course I did. I did all I can do. I just need to leave her be now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I swear to god, if you apologize one more time…”

“What? What’ll you do?” Haruka asked, mouth starting to turn into a smile. Rin pinched her cheek and kissed her smiling lips again.

“I’ll just have to find a way to shut you up.”

She helped Haruka back out of her clothes, and lowered her to the floor.

 

* * *

 

Rin left first, heading back to her dorm around midnight. Haruka waited by herself in the office for five, ten, fifteen minutes before she, too, slipped out, locked the door, and made her way back to her dorm. Dreaming of the day when she and Rin could finally spend an entire night together. She wanted to know what it was like to sleep beside her, watch her fall asleep, see her as soon as she woke up. Maybe it would change something in her. Maybe it would change nothing at all. It would happen eventually, she told herself. Rin had said the same thing.

Haruka hadn’t prepared well enough for how cold it was this late at night and this deep into autumn. It was October, almost Halloween, and still Haruka was trying to get away with t-shirts and the lightest of jackets—her summer soul was in denial. She considered staying in the office to finish her sketching for the day, but decided that it would be even colder later, so she wanted to get back to her room as soon as possible. She pulled her hood up and hugged herself as the night crawled up her skin, and turned sharply through the academic quad to take the slightly dangerous shortcut back to her dorm. Makoto always asked her not to, because it involved some shaky wooden steps, but Haruka couldn’t bear this cold. She would take the risk and lie when Makoto asked her about it.

Haruka made it safely down the stairs, and walked through a densely forested path before emerging into a small grassy plaza—on the other side of which was the path to her dorm. But as she moved to cross the plaza, she noticed two figures sitting on the grass, bundled up, close together and speaking in hushed tones. Haruka couldn’t help but pause and turn her attention to the figures. They were fuzzy and like liquid in the dark, more like apparitions than true people. She moved a bit closer, until through the chattering of her teeth, she was able to hear them; and was able to realize, quickly, that it was Rei and Nagisa.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Nagisa said.

“I’m just scared. I don’t know.”

“Scared? Am I scary?”

“No, not you. _You’re_ not scary. This is scary.”

“This…?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Sorry, you’ve lost me.”

“You know. _This_.”

“Okay, so. What is this?”

“Oh. I guess we never established that.”

“No.”

Nagisa put her head on Rei’s shoulder and inched closer to her. They fit perfectly into each other, and Haruka’s heart started to beat a bit slower. Constricted. She couldn’t name what she was feeling; she wasn’t sure that anybody in the entire world would be able to.

“What do you want it to be?” Nagisa asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah. You. What do you want?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Okay. Want me to tell you what I want?”

“Yes, I would like that very much,” Rei responded tenderly.

“I really, really, really like you.”

“Three really’s?”

“More, but I just condensed it.”

Rei laughed, and Haruka imagined they were holding hands.

“Okay, so you really, really, really like me,” Rei continued.

“Absolutely. From the first time I met you.”

“Even after you got to know me?”

“Even more after I got to know you.”

“O-okay.”

“And if I lived in the perfect world, where I could get whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, you would right at this moment tell me that you like me too, and we could be together. For as long as we’re meant to be together.”

“That’s what you want? What you really want?”

“Just to be with you.”

“Only me?”

“Only you. Of course.”

“Nagisa…”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“This whole relationship thing. I don’t know what it means.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll have new responsibilities. And I’ll have to confront new feelings, and new obstacles I’ve never experienced before.”

“Isn’t that what’s so exciting about it?” Nagisa lifted her head, and they stared at each other. “That you get to do all that, but with someone who loves you? You both get to do it together?”

“Someone who loves me?”

It was then that Nagisa kissed Rei. Haruka saw the desperation, pure and lovely, shimmering on their lips as they kissed. Surely it wasn’t their first kiss, but it was their most important. Their most beautiful, by far. Dripping in moonlight and chilly autumn leaves.

“Yeah. I think I love you.”

Rei was going to cry. Haruka could tell, because she took off her glasses and turned away. Then she whispered:

“I think I love you, too, Nagisa.”

Before they could notice she was there, Haruka rushed across the plaza and onto the path, shivering horribly now, so she could finally get into bed. Tonight she would dream about Nagisa and Rei. And tomorrow she would text them, and ask if she could sketch them, this time shading them in with all the love that was blossoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen this sinful fic needed some wholesomeness and what is more wholesome than Reigisa


	18. how did you know I would bite?

18

how did you know I would bite?

 

Haruka and Rin realized they were in too deep on Halloween.

They still weren’t sure what to do about it.

* * *

 

Rin convinced Sousuke to host a Halloween party with her—Sousuke’s room was larger than average, even among seniors’ rooms, and Rin had been wanting to host a party since the start of the school year. She figured Halloween was the perfect opportunity; she and Sousuke had been planning their costumes since August. She wanted to show off, she wanted to get shitfaced with her friends, and though she was in denial, she wanted to prove to Sousuke that she liked being with her. She liked being with her so much that she wanted to go out of her way to plan a party with her.

It had been a week since the disastrous double date when Rin begged Sousuke to do the party with her, but things were still tense. Rin wasn’t sure how many times she had already apologized. Ten, fifty, one-hundred times.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

Despite her smile, Rin had known better. Sousuke was still hurting, and just wasn’t sure how to deal with it. She was probably afraid of Rin lashing out if she tried to bring it up. Rin couldn’t blame her, not when she couldn’t even predict her own reactions. Even she wasn’t sure how far she could be pushed, and Sousuke was smart to not want to find out.

_I am really fucking this up._

In the week leading up to the party, Rin and Haruka were in the office, leaning against the window wrapped in each other.

“You and Makoto are coming to my party next week, right?”

“Of course.”

“Mm. Good.” Rin buried her face in Haruka’s hair— _it smells like lavender and honeysuckle—_ and kissed her bare shoulder. Haruka was playing with her fingers, stretching them and bending them. Making them her own, making them beautiful.

“How’s Sousuke?”

“We’ve been better. I think she’s really hurt.”

“You apologized. What more can you do?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“Maybe you should be spending more time with her.”

“And less with you?”

“…Yeah.”

Rin lifted her head and kissed Haruka’s ready, puckered lips.

“Do something nice for her. Like a surprise,” Haruka continued.

“A surprise.”

“It doesn’t have to be elaborate or expensive or anything. Just something.”

“Have you ever done that for Makoto? When you guys were in a rough patch?”

“I mean, yeah. And she does that for me all the time.”

“Oh.”

Haruka pursed her lips, and Rin realized that she was holding back laughter. It took her off-guard. She sat up, hands still gripping Haruka’s arm, and glared at her.

“Are you _laughing_?”

Haruka pressed the back of her hand to her lips and shook her head.

“You asshole! You are!” Rin started laughing then, too, and as Haruka finally let the laugh from her lips, Rin blew a raspberry against her neck to make her laugh harder. She wondered if she’d ever heard Haruka laugh like that, or even at all. She’d never heard anything more musical. She wished she could hear it more often.

“I’m sorry.”

“And just what is so funny?”

“For someone in a serious relationship, you are so clueless,” Haruka responded. She could barely catch her breath. Her smile wrinkled up the corners of her eyes, her breathlessness was an ocean and Rin was drowning with the taste of rose petals on her lips. She couldn’t help it—she stole the laugh straight from Haruka’s lips, kissed her as hard as she could.

“I’ve never actually done this relationship thing before, okay?” she said. “Sousuke’s kinda my first.”

“I know. I’m sorry for laughing.”

“It’s weird getting relationship advice from you, you know?”

“Do you want me to stop giving you advice, then?”

“No.” Rin pouted and, like a child, put her head in Haruka’s lap. “You seem like you’re good at it.”

“Yeah. Right. That’s exactly why I’m fucking _you_ every day.”

Rin kissed Haruka’s thighs, but said nothing. Maybe Haruka would be able to feel her through that kiss, through her palms on her skin, through her breath covering her knees. Maybe she would never have to say anything ever again, and Haruka would know her anyway. She closed her eyes for a moment, to force herself to think of Sousuke. To think of all the times she had said ‘I love you, Sou,’ and meant it, because why would she have said that without meaning to? Was that, like, a conscious thing? Was it possible for her to be lying to herself without her even realizing it? As she spiraled into the vortex of doubt and confusion, Haruka’s fingers spread out against her scalp, and she realized that she had no idea what love was. Because if someone had asked her, at that very moment, what love was, she would have said:

_this._

 

* * *

 

Rin took Haruka’s advice. A few days before the party, when she knew Sousuke would be studying late at the library, she sat up waiting. She got out her best camera, loaded it with film, and sat on Sousuke’s bed sucking on a lollipop. She flipped through her photographs from the year and started thinking about what her final portfolio would look like in April. Or before that—she would have to start applying for internships and fellowships soon, probably over winter break. She needed a competitive portfolio. At least, she thought, she had the stunning, effortless photos of Haruka, the only photographs that she was certain belonged in the portfolio. She tried to avoid looking at them as she waited for Sousuke to return, but she couldn’t help it. The taste of Haruka from that afternoon was still on her lips.

When Sousuke walked into the room, exhaustion was written on her face. Her backpack hanging from one shoulder, headphones around her neck, short hair pulled back with a headband that made the shorter strands stand up like static. As her eyes fell upon Rin, cross-legged on her bed, she looked genuinely surprised—Rin hated it.

“Hey, babe,” she said haltingly. Rin reached her hand out and wiggled her fingers, until Sousuke, with her pained half-smile, grabbed her hand. Rin pulled her forward and kissed her.

“Hey.”

“It’s late,” Sousuke continued.

“I know. How was studying?”

“Pretty productive, honestly.”

“Do you have to get up early tomorrow?”

“No. Why?”

“Come on.” Rin stood up and pulled on a sweater, a jacket, and slipped into her boots. Sousuke dropped her backpack on her desk.

“Where?”

“You’ll see. Here.” She forced Sousuke to turn around, and then blindfolded her with an old bandana that Rin sometimes used on her hair. Sousuke was exhausted, not enthusiastic but perhaps too tired to even resist. She didn’t say much. She just let Rin do what she wanted. Rin led her carefully to the elevator and outside of the dorm, and in the chill she began to lead her across campus. They didn’t speak at all for the entirety of the ten minutes that they were walking. Rin walked behind Sousuke, leading her with her hands on her shoulders. Sousuke’s unquestionable trust in her was inspiring. Touching, even.

“Okay. We’re here.”

They stopped. Rin removed the blindfold. They were on one of the wooden docks on the periphery of the lake, in the chilled crystal darkness.

“Ta-da!”

“What are we doing here?” Sousuke asked. She stepped forward and leaned onto the railing. The white moonlight made her look like a ghost, with her bright green eyes and short, practically black hair.

“Will you please, _please_ let me photograph you?” Rin wrapped her arms around Sousuke’s waist and rested her cheek on her back. She felt her take a long, deep breath.

“Why do you even want to? I bet you have more beautiful things to photograph you.”

“Because there _is_ nothing more beautiful than you. Not to me. I want to prove it.”

“Come on, Rin. You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. Please. Let me do this. I want you in my portfolio.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.”

Even in the darkness, Rin could see Sousuke hiding a smile.

She kissed the back of Sousuke’s neck, and pulled out her camera.

 

* * *

 

For Halloween, on a Saturday night, Rin and Sousuke dressed as Marty McFly and Doc Brown. Rin was Marty, in jeans, a denim jacket, striped shirt (low cut, without the black undershirt), bright orange vest, and hair combed back. Sousuke was the Doc, in a zipped up white jumpsuit, yellow gloves, and fluffed up hair (though she had refused to even spray-dye it white). Rin had done her makeup with wrinkles and big bags to make her look older. They were adorable, propping the door to Sousuke’s room open to welcome the guests. Each person who walked in had their own pack of beer or bottle of tequila/vodka/rum/whatever, so by the time it was eleven, the peak party time, their room was more full of alcohol than people. There was only one rule to be admitted: wear a costume. Rin and Sousuke were very serious about Halloween.

After what had happened on their double date—and pretty much any other outing that year—Rin decided to only drink lightly. She had a party to run, after all, and photographs to take all night. So Sousuke took Rin’s sobriety and assumption of the role of hostess as her green light to get shitfaced herself. By the time Haruka and Makoto arrived, just before eleven, Sousuke was nearly blacked out.

Haruka and Makoto took Halloween even more seriously than Rin and Sousuke with their matching, Back to the Future get-ups. They were dressed as Steve and Blue from Blue’s Clues—Makoto as Steve, in the characteristic green shirt and khakis (she didn’t bother with a wig, just kept her hair up in its ponytail), and Haruka dressed in a blue fursuit with her hair speckled blue and tied up in pigtails to imitate the dog ears. Makoto had done her makeup, with a cute little nose and blue dots. Her face was entirely blue. Makoto’s smile fit the part perfectly. They walked in already a little bit tipsy, having shared a few bottles of wine while getting ready, and were all smiles. Rin hugged both of them separately as they entered, and then asked them to stand in the doorway for a photo.

“Too adorable. Too fucking adorable. You guys kill me,” she gushed. Makoto kissed Haruka’s cheek, as if to emphasize Rin’s point, so Rin snapped a photo of that, too, despite the way her heart constricted. “Go, get drinks, I won’t allow you to be sober at my party. Go! We have plenty.”

“Haru?” Makoto looked at Haruka. Her lips were blue, now, too. 

“I want a rum and coke.”

“Your wish is my command, my little puppy.”

They walked over to the plastic table where all the drinks were set up, and Makoto started mixing drinks. Rin watched them for a few moments, the smiles they gave each other, the halo of light around them as they stood with their arms, hips, legs touching. Perfect together. She snapped a few more photos and went to interact with the other guests. Nagisa and Rei had just arrived, too. Nagisa dressed as Marilyn Monroe, Rei as Wonder Woman.

 

* * *

 

Haruka was already a bit fuzzy when Sousuke approached her. The room was crowded and it was around midnight, and Haruka was comfortable in her costume and with the drink in her hand. She saw a flash of white in her peripheral vision while she was talking with Nagisa, and she turned to find a drunk, goofy Sousuke beside her. She put her arm around Haruka, unexpectedly, and smiled wide.

“Haru! What’s up? Your costume is _beautiful_.”

“Hi, Sou. Thank you. I like yours, too.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Nagisa pouted.

“You look the _most_ beautiful, Nagisa.” Sousuke leaned forward and placed a quick, playful kiss on Nagisa’s powdered forehead.

“Oh, Sou-chan.”

“Hey, Haru.” Sousuke suddenly brought her lips very close to Haruka’s ear. Haruka leaned toward her, electrified.

“Hmm?”

“Do you wanna come outside with me for a second?” She brought her hand out from behind her back to reveal a small plastic bag. Haruka glanced at it, then took a quick sip to finish the rest of her drink, and followed Sousuke out of the room. They stumbled down the stairs and out the back door of the dorm, out by the outdoor stairs leading to the academic quad where nobody would see them. Sousuke, with her fluffed up hair and white jumpsuit; Haruka, with her blue face and fursuit, smoking two joints out by the dumpsters. They looked bizarre together, but they were happy.

“How did you know I would bite?” Haruka asked. Sousuke shrugged.

“Just seem like the type. I don’t know.”

“Observant.”

Sousuke smiled, and it was genuine, and it made Haruka’s chest warm. She met her eyes and smiled back—she was drunk enough for that. And she liked Sousuke, despite how terrified of her she was. Brilliant, really brilliant; beautiful; a heart good enough to woo serial heartbreaker Rin Matsuoka. She was one of the few people in the world that truly had her shit together, and Haruka both admired her and was wildly jealous.

“Fuck. It’s not fair,” Sousuke suddenly said, blowing smoke up toward the sky.

“What?”

“Even with that stupid hairstyle and your face all blue, you look like an angel.”

Haruka started coughing.

“Huh?”

“You’re so damn pretty, I could punch you.”

“Please don’t.”

“That smile could kill someone. I swear.”

“It’s why I don’t smile a lot.”

Sousuke started to laugh. Then she started to wander, to pace, joint in her fingers and gaze flickering like the flame of a candle. Haruka swayed a bit as she stood, watching her.

“Rin really likes you. She really likes you a lot,” she said.

“I like her a lot, too.”

“She hasn’t had, like, a _friend_ like you in a long time. Just someone to hang out with. You know? I think you’re really great for her.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. The way she talks about you. The smile on her face whenever she gets back from hanging out with you.”

The guilt started mixing in with the weed, and Haruka’s head began to ache. She couldn’t watch Sousuke pace anymore; she stared down at the pavement.

“Has she told you?” Haruka said quietly. So quietly.

“Hmm? What?”

“Does Rin ever tell you how good _you_ are for her?”

“You mean, like, does she tell me she loves me? Sure.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. Does she ever say, ‘You’re good to me, Sou, thank you.’”

Sousuke froze. Her joint was nearly finished.

“No. I don’t think she’s ever said that.”

“She’s thinking it. She should say it more.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. I think you’re too good to her.”

“You think I’m _too_ good for her?”

Their eyes met. Haruka couldn’t find the reason to regret what she was saying. She realized that she had been thinking it since she had first seen Sousuke and Rin fighting, outside the bar, before she and Rin had started this mess. Sousuke was too good for her. Loved her too much and too well.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Sometimes I do, too,” Sousuke said. She smiled again. “I love her way too much to do anything about it, though.”

“She loves you, too. No doubt about that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Can I roll another?”

“Sure.” 


	19. you would rather be with me?

19

you would rather be with me?

 

As soon as Sousuke and Haruka tried slipping, high and unnoticed, back into the party, Rin saw them. Not on accident; she’d been waiting for them to come back, ever since she’d spotted them leaving. Haruka felt her glare, but the drugs and alcohol made her brave enough to meet Rin’s eyes—they were narrow and angry. Haruka held her gaze, somehow unafraid, somehow ready, perhaps not aware enough of her own thoughts to realize that something was wrong. Sousuke disappeared into the crowd, searching for another drink, while Haruka waited by the door. She assumed Rin would come to her. And, after a few moments, she did, digital camera still hanging around her neck. As she passed through the crowd, she placed her camera back on the table and came toward Haruka, bare. She grabbed her hand and started to lead her out.

“But I was just outside,” Haruka said groggily.

“Just come with me.”

They left, and as Rin led the way, practically completely sober, Haruka stumbled behind her and gripped her hand for dear life. They walked a bit down the hall, and then turned into a different room—what Haruka learned quickly was actually Rin’s room, predictably near Sousuke’s. It was dark, and Rin only turned on a small lamp before closing and locking the door behind her. Haruka realized in that moment how hot she was. Under the fursuit, her skin was covered in beads of sweat. Rin sat down on the bed.

“What was that?” she asked, with an overdramatic gesture of her hand.

“Mmmmm what?”

“You and Sou.”

“Nothing. Just wanted to get high.” Her words were drawn out and slow, and she was fidgeting endlessly. Rin stared at her. Unamused.

“That’s it?”

“Yup.” Haruka smiled, and started to unzip her suit. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“God, let’s not fucking get into this again.”

“I promise we didn’t do anything else.”

“No, I know you didn’t _do_ anything…fuck, Haru.”

She dropped the fursuit, completely naked underneath but for tiny black panties, and savored the air (however stale it was) on her bare skin. With a deep breath, already turned on by Rin’s eyes on her naked body, she leaned against the door and stretched her limbs out like a cat. Rin could do nothing but give a trembling sigh.

“Then why are you so worked up?”

“I get nervous when you guys are alone together. Especially drunk.”

“I’m not gonna say anything. Don’t worry.”

“Well…did she say anything to you?”

“Just that she loves you.” Haruka fell silent then, and Rin did too. Without Haruka having to do or say anything else, Rin stood up from the bed and walked toward her—she put her hands on Haruka’s hips, pushed her back against the door, and put her lips harshly against her outstretched neck.

“Be careful,” Haruka whispered. “You can’t get any blue on your face.”

“I don’t want to kiss you anyway. Your breath probably reeks of booze.”

“Aw. That’s not fair.”

“Just shut up.”

“Maybe we should get back to the party? Before anyone notices we’re gone?” Not even Haruka was convinced by her tone, breathless with the pleasure of Rin’s tongue drawing maps on her neck. She didn’t want to go back to the party. She wanted to stay here forever, drunk, high, being kissed by Rin endlessly.

“I don’t want to go back to the party,” Rin said dryly.

“You would rather be with me?”

“Always.”

Haruka’s mind went blank. She’d meant it jokingly. But Rin sounded as serious as ever.

_You would rather be with me?_

_Than with your own girlfriend?_

_I’m not the only one?_

Rin pushed Haruka back harder and dug her fingers into the flesh of her thigh, forcing her leg up. White, dizzying tingles spread throughout her body, under her skin and up in moans from her blueberry lips.

“Come on. Louder. Nobody’s gonna hear you,” Rin murmured against her skin. Haruka turned her face up to the ceiling, holding her breath, until Rin slid her fingers down into her panties and up between her legs.

“Fuck,” she heard herself say.

“Hm? What’s that?” Rin ran her tongue up beneath Haruka’s chin and teased her clit. Haruka’s body began responding on its own, lifting her legs higher, letting out the breath she’d been holding, turning her lips up into an overwhelmed, glossy-lipped smile. “Oh, I see. You _like_ this, don’t you.”

She pressed two of her fingers up against Haruka’s clit, and began moving them in slow, consistent circles. The moan that slid from her mouth was smooth and came from the very depth of her body, her ears were ringing and she could hardly hear it, the entire world was spinning in white flashes of kaleidoscope pleasure. It started buried in her stomach, but was spreading its limbs throughout her body, filling her with red-haired, bright-eyed, fucked-up Rin Matsuoka.

“Haru, you’re so wet,” Rin said. She bit down on the thin skin of her neck as she moved her fingers a bit faster, bumping the pleasure up, leaving Haruka panting. She put her other hand on one of Haruka’s breasts and squeezed her nipple. “Gonna come for me?”

“Don’t stop…”

“Let me hear you.”

“God, Rin.”

As Rin’s fingers swiveled, swiveled, faster, faster, the pleasure began to build and Haruka’s breaths quickened. Higher. Higher—how did Rin already know her body so well? Know how to get her to this point so quickly?

_Fuck—_

As she came, blinded, dizzied, she banged her head back against the door and called out Rin’s name like she was calling out to god.  

 

* * *

 

After helping Haruka into her fursuit, Rin led her back to Sousuke’s room to rejoin the party. They told everyone that they’d gone to the bathroom—Haruka had been too drunk to get the costume off herself, so Rin had helped her. Nobody gave it another thought. Nobody except for Nagisa. She’d seen them leave together, had seen them come back together, and knew better than to believe they had just gone to the bathroom for a piss and come back. But Haruka was too cross-faded at that point to care, it seemed; when Nagisa gave her a look, she didn’t even notice. She just found herself falling back into Makoto’s arms and, one drink later, being dragged home.

When Haruka woke up the next day, wickedly hungover, the only thing she remembered with vivid, colorful crystal clarity was Rin’s lips on her neck and fingers in her cunt. Makoto was beside her in bed, still completely in costume, though Haruka herself was naked. The pillow was covered in blue paint, and her scalp ached from having her hair up in tight pigtails for so long. Before she went to the bathroom, she filled a cup of water for Makoto and forced her to wake up for just a second—just to drink some water. Then she checked her phone.

_Rin: good morning sunshine. make sure you drink a lot of water._

_Haruka: there’s blue paint everywhere._

_Rin: go shower blueberry_

_Haruka: yes mom_

_Rin: I had fun last night. round two later? I think I deserve a few kisses._

Haruka meant to say no. She would have lunch with Makoto, then finish all her homework for Monday, then—

_Haruka: tell me when and where_

 

* * *

 

_red, red, red._

_lips like opiates._

_taking me high—high—high—_

_destroying everything in their path._

_fire._

 

* * *

 

A few days after the Halloween party, after everyone had almost fully recovered, Nagisa tried to get ahold of Haruka. Just for lunch, dinner, even breakfast, anything, but Haruka kept making hollow excuses—excuses she knew Nagisa wouldn’t believe, but gave anyway, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Nagisa chewing her out. She knew that’s what it was about. Nagisa had warned her that if she didn’t figure something out soon, she would tell Makoto about it. Maybe, somewhere inside, Haruka secretly wanted that. To be held responsible for this bullshit thing she was doing, something she knew was wrong, but couldn’t possibly stop. If she stopped, she knew, she would start spiraling, and she and Makoto would come to a horrible, fiery end anyway. Rin gave her something, or maybe the idea of something (enough to fool Haruka), that Makoto had somehow been unable to give her. Or maybe something Haruka had been _unable to take_. Without Rin she would fall back into the routine of comfortable numb love, love like a habit instead of love like a storm, passive love instead of active love.

She knew she was in deep. Too deep. Rin was messing her up, changing her most basic beliefs, morphing her innate goodness into a physical need to do bad. Each night she went to bed riddled with guilt, and each night it was overpowered by primal satisfaction. Sometimes, on her way to meet Rin, she would tell herself that today would be the day she ended it. She dreaded each step, saw Rin’s face waiting for her like a nightmare. But once she arrived everything but desire, relief, whatever this fluttering in her stomach was, melted away and she wanted Rin excruciatingly once more. She was sure that Rin felt guilty, too. Makoto and Sousuke didn’t deserve this. They did only what they could and only what they believed Haruka and Rin wanted. They were the lovers everybody dreamed of, but somehow, neither Haruka nor Rin could properly appreciate it.

It made Nagisa livid.

She loved Haruka, but she loved Makoto, too, and the thought of Haruka breaking Makoto’s heart made her vision red. Nagisa didn’t get angry easily—it wasn’t an emotion that came naturally to her, like excitement, determination, frustration. Anger just wasn’t something she’d felt many times in her life, because she had a talent of empathizing with other perspectives. Haruka’s, though, was a perspective she couldn’t possibly understand. Rin had nothing, _nothing_ for her, that Makoto didn’t. So why was she going out of her way to fuck her? She couldn’t understand it. Sure, Rin was beautiful, and sure, Rin was charming, but Makoto was _good_ in a way that Rin wasn’t and would never be. Makoto would have sold her soul to the devil if it meant making Haruka smile for even a moment. Surely Rin wouldn’t do that; surely Rin was doing this selfishly.

She finally managed to corner Haruka one day after a class she knew Haruka had in the art building. It was snowing, lightly, one of the first snows of the coming winter, and Haruka walked out of the building as she stuffed her sketchbook into her bag. She didn’t notice Nagisa until she stepped right in front of her, face hard, eyes like stone. Haruka was startled, and froze.

“Nagisa.”

“If you don’t figure your shit out soon, I’m going to talk to Mako-chan. She doesn’t deserve this,” Nagisa said. There was no point in beating around the bush, not on these steps, while other students flowed all around them. Haruka averted her gaze, back to the ground, as fucking always. Nagisa often found it endearing. But today it was on her nerves.

“Haru-chan!”

“I know, I know,” she mumbled. “I’m…I’m trying.”

“What do you mean, you’re trying? How hard is it? You pick whichever is more worth it. Mako-chan, and everything she’s ever given you, or the constant hard-on you have for Rin-chan.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What do you mean? That’s exactly what it’s like. What other reason could you possibly have for fucking Rin and not telling Mako-chan about it?”

“It’s not just the sex. It’s not just, you know, physical.”

“Haru-chan.”

“I told you. I don’t know how to explain.”

“ _You_ don’t even understand!”

“I know! Okay? I know!” Haruka cried. Nagisa was taken aback—she’d never heard Haruka raise her voice, or use a tone like that. “I know I’m doing a shitty, shitty thing. I know Makoto doesn’t deserve it. You don’t think I stay up all night fucking riddled with guilt? Of course I do. But the thought of…the thought of ending things with Rin. It’s like ripping my heart to pieces.”

“You’re full of shit, Haru-chan. I’ll give you until next semester. I love you, okay? You know I do. That’s why I can’t just let you do whatever you want. Figure. It. Out.”

By the time Nagisa turned and walked away, she and Haruka were both holding back tears. Neither of them had ever imagined that they would have a conversation like that, and it was breaking both of their hearts. Haruka’s was getting dangerously close to its final, true breaking point. When that happened, she wasn’t sure what would follow. 


	20. I don't feel like smoking

20

I don’t feel like smoking

Makoto’s birthday was coming up soon—it was Scorpio season. Everywhere Haruka went, even while she sketched, she was trying to figure out what to get her. Sure, she would sketch her again, but by that point Makoto had so many beautiful sketches of herself that it wouldn’t be anything special. Another cute, loving thing Haruka had done for her, so she could add it to her portfolio of beautiful sketches. But Haruka wanted to do something else for her, get her something that would actually surprise her. The most obvious decision was a surprise party. Even Makoto wouldn’t be expecting Haruka to throw her a surprise party. She would make it a big spectacle, with a cake, flowers, streamers all over the tiny dorm room. It would probably bring Makoto close to tears, and the thought made Haruka’s heart feel full. Maybe it was a little bit of guilt, too. She was working on that.

She and Rin continued to meet, practically every day. Accidentally spilling secrets while they kissed each other, making half-breathless confessions with their backs against the bookshelf. It was during these quick, sweet daylight trysts that Haruka learned Rin’s mother had been a photographer, too. But just as she had been about to make it big, she’d been killed in a car accident. Thankfully, she’d taught Rin everything she knew—and Rin was determined to make it big in the world of photography in her mother’s place. Haruka also learned that Rin had a younger brother, Kou (but he preferred to be called Gou), and she loved him very much. After Rin told Haruka about Kou for the first time, she wouldn’t stop talking about him. It was clear she missed him. Haruka told Rin, in turn, that both her parents were alive, but she didn’t see them that often because they traveled for work. It was one of the reasons she and Makoto had grown close; the Tachibanas had taken her in like their own daughter. She told Rin that she was an only child.

It seemed that after Halloween, Sousuke and Rin were sailing smoother waters.

Haruka asked Rin what she thought of a surprise party for Makoto’s birthday in a few weeks. Rin thought it was a good idea. A great idea, in fact. Makoto definitely deserved something like that. All she ever did was be nice to people, all she ever did was smile, the least Haruka could do was surprise her like this. Rin kissed Haruka’s forehead, eyelashes, lips, and promised that she would come, and bring a cake and everybody she knew.

Haruka also gathered her wits and asked Nagisa to come over one Thursday night. Nagisa apologized for how she’d acted, and kissed Haruka’s cheeks, and told her in a sweet, sunflower soft voice that she loved Haruka, she did, she _really_ did, but she loved Makoto, too. And she couldn’t bear to watch Haruka break both of their hearts. Then she promised Haruka she would help her plan Makoto’s surprise party, despite how awful she was at keeping secrets.

It was then, getting high with Nagisa, thinking about all the things Haruka could do to make Makoto smile, that she remembered.

She was in love with Makoto.

_I’m in love with Makoto._

_It’s always been Makoto._

And for a split second she didn’t see Rin anymore.

She promised Nagisa, that night, that over winter break—before next semester could start—she would break things off with Rin. She just needed until then. She promised.

_I promise._

__

* * *

 

One week before Makoto’s surprise party, Haruka was in class. The professor was passing back their midterm assignments. It was simple. Draw something beautiful and write about it as if it were to be put in a gallery. Haruka had decided to use the quick sketch she had done of Nagisa that night, head hanging over the bed, wildly colorful and brilliant. She had edited it while sober, written her little blurb, and turned it in. The professor returned it, along with her written commentary and an big fat “A” in bright red marking. Haruka quietly thanked the professor, hardly looking at her, and began rolling up the sketch. Before the professor moved on to the next student, she bent down and said, “Meet me after class please, Haruka. I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Haruka replied. Secretly terrified. She’d gotten a good grade, what could the professor possibly want from her? For the rest of the class, her nerves went wild and became raw, and she couldn’t even sketch because her hands were shaking ever so slightly.

As the professor dismissed them, Haruka sat, still, at her desk while everyone else filed out like a school of fish. When it was finally just her and the professor left, she gathered her things and walked up to the desk.

“You wanted to see me?” she said gently. The professor smiled up at her for a few moments, and when Haruka didn’t smile back (despite how hard she really was trying), she chuckled to herself.

“Your work is good, Haruka. Really good.”

“Thank you.”

“Best I’ve seen in a few years, actually.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“What did you do last summer?” the professor asked, sitting up straighter.

“Just an internship at the MoMA,” she shrugged.

“Just an internship at the MoMA? There’s a difference between modesty and naivety, Ms. Nanase.”

This time, Haruka did smile. The professor laughed a little louder, and then decided she didn’t like her seat anymore, and stood up. She was a bit taller than Haruka.

“Have you ever heard of the Louvre fellowship? For undergraduates?”

“The Louvre as in…?”

“The art museum? In Paris?”

“With the Mona Lisa.”

“Yes, exactly,” the professor grinned.

“No. I haven’t.”

“Well, I’m going to recommend that you apply.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“It’s a very prestigious fellowship. It requires that an alumnus recommend an applicant, and out of that pool of recommended applicants, they only choose two,” the professor continued.

“So you did the fellowship, too?” Haruka asked.

“Sure did, way back when. But I’m hoping someone like you can take better advantage of it. I knew that I just wanted to teach, but you—you’re not meant for academia. You’re meant to be a real artist.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had said to Haruka since she’d been here. She couldn’t respond. Still smiling, the professor handed her a small pamphlet, detailing the requirements of the fellowship and how to apply. On a post-it note, the professor wrote down a specific online code, so that Haruka could prove that she had, in fact, been recommended.

“Use the upcoming winter break to work on your portfolio for the application. Only put in your best work. They’ll get back to you around next March. If you have any questions, let me know. Sound good?”

“I don’t know French,” she mumbled.

“Take it next semester if you want, just in case. And if you don’t get the fellowship, at least you’re learning a new language. And besides. You’ll pick it up fast in a place like Paris.”

“Okay. If you say so. I’ll apply.”

“Good. See you on Thursday.”

Now, she couldn’t help herself. Haruka was all smiles.

“Thank you, Professor. Thank you so much.”

“Make me proud, Haruka.”

“I will.”

The first person Haruka called was Makoto. And she could hardly contain her excitement.

 

* * *

 

The day of Makoto’s party, Rei, Rin, and Sousuke came a few hours early to help Haruka set up while Nagisa took Makoto out to dinner—keep her busy and unsuspecting. Rei and Haruka blew up balloons and hung up streamers, Sousuke picked up the cake, Rin took photos (“for posterity!”) and made sure to remind everybody of exactly what time to be there. By that time, Haruka had finally managed to be comfortable around both Rin and Sousuke. Rin and Haruka had their system practically perfected, especially now that they had properly befriended each other’s partners. Haruka liked hanging out with Sousuke. There was something mellow and practical about her. She always showed up after studying for hours and hours and hours and that was enough to make her worthy of admiration.

“Hey, Rin. Did you tell Haru about that thing?” Sousuke asked in the midst of making Haruka’s messy bed. Rin had her face behind the camera, photographing her.

“What thing?”

“That thing you told me about the other day.”

“Oh! No, I didn’t.” She put the camera down and whirled around to face Haruka, on a stepladder being steadied by Rei, hanging up the corny “Happy Birthday” streamers.

“What do you wanna tell me?” Haruka called.

“I guess I just forgot. My photography professor,” the one in whose office Haruka and Rin had sex practically every day, “recommended me for this fancy summer fellowship at the Louvre.”  

“Whoa, Haru!” Rei cried as Haruka nearly stumbled right off that little stepladder. Rei grabbed her hips to steady her, glasses crooked.

“A fellowship at the Louvre? In Paris?” Haruka parroted.

“You heard of it?”  

“Yeah, kind of.” Haruka stepped down from the ladder, leaning on Rei’s shoulder, and reached into her bag. She pulled out the pamphlet and handed it to Rin. Rin took it, stared at it, dumbfounded. “My professor recommended that I apply for it, too.”

“Fuck.”

There was tense, awkward silence for a few seconds. Until, finally, Rin looked back up, a smile from ear-to-ear, beaming the color of cherry blossoms.

“Haru! What if we both got this fellowship? Then we’d spend the entire summer in Paris together!”

“Oh. Uh, yeah—”

“I mean, they do take two people every year.”

Sousuke and Haruka exchanged terse, clandestine looks. All Sousuke could do was shrug. Haruka managed a small smile and took the pamphlet back.

“That would be awesome,” she replied.

Rin pulled her into a one-armed hug, and then they all went back to setting up for Makoto’s party.

 

* * *

 

“Surprise!”

Makoto jumped into the air as she walked into Haruka’s room, accompanied by blushing, childish Nagisa, expecting just Haruka and some Chinese takeout. Instead there were at least twenty people, packed into this dorm room, screaming happy birthdays and throwing confetti into the air. Haruka jumped forward, grabbed Makoto’s hands, kissed her lips with an eagerness Makoto hadn’t felt in her for months.

“Haru, you—you did this?”

“Are you surprised?” Haruka smiled. Makoto kissed her again.

“Yes! I’m impressed.”

“Come have cake.”

“Oh, did you bake it for me?”

“Of course not.”

Still grasping Haruka’s hand, Makoto started making the rounds. She got her piece of cake, and greeted everyone individually like a proper hostess. Haruka on her arm like a proper girlfriend. At some point, someone forced a drink into Makoto’s hand, and Haruka started whispering words of encouragement into her ear. Drink, have fun, I’ll take care of you. So Makoto let go a bit, for the first time in a while, because Haruka assured her that she wouldn’t be drinking. That the double date and Halloween party had been more than enough alcohol for the rest of the semester. She would happily take care of her green-eyed, ponytail-clad girlfriend. Makoto had one, two, three drinks, and soon she was stumbling while she walked and slurring her words. She was a calm, happy drunk, her affection exacerbated and her cheeks rosy.

“Nice work. Maybe you should get an award or something.” Rin slid up next to Haruka a few hours in, hands in her pockets and hair tied back messily.

“That’s so meaningful coming from you.”

“Shut up.” Rin bumped her shoulder, and then flashed the carton of cigarettes she had in her pocket. “Join me for a smoke break?”   

Haruka’s instinct, her new instinct, was to say yes. Of course she would go out for a smoke break, share a cigarette with Rin, kiss behind the dorm and fuck as quickly as possible. But she caught herself as her eyes fell upon Makoto, across the room, laughing brilliantly with a red solo cup in her hands. She really was incredible. She must have felt Haruka looking at her—she glanced over. Then she waved. Haruka smiled and waved back.

“I don’t feel like smoking,” she said to Rin.

“You don’t _feel_ like smoking?”

“I’m gonna get more cake.”

“Haru—”

She couldn’t bear to even imagine what Rin’s expression looked like, so she just walked away. Didn’t look back. She spent the rest of the evening taking care of Makoto, as she got drunker, and drunker. As was fit for the birthday girl, she was leagues drunker than everyone else. People started filing out around 1am, and that was about when Makoto started blacking out. Haruka took her to the bathroom and held her hair back from her face while she vomited.       

“It’s okay. Let it out. Breathe.”

“I’m…sssorry, Haru…”

“No, no, it’s okay. You’re fine.”

They stumbled back to Haruka’s room, and Haruka helped Makoto out of her clothes and into bed. As Makoto curled up under the covers, Haruka filled up a cup of water, forced Makoto to drink it, and then knelt on the floor beside her and took out her ponytail to stroke her hair.

“I love you so so so so much,” Makoto cooed.  

“I love you too, Makoto. I love you a lot.”

“This was my _best birthday_.”

“Your best birthday? Ever?” Haruka leaned her cheek on the bed, right by Makoto’s face, and kept stroking her hair to the beat of her heart.

“ _Ever_.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Haru…Haruka…I’m so lucky to have you my lovely lovely Haru.”

“Not as lucky as me,” Haruka whispered.

“No! Seriously!” Makoto cried. “I always get worried that one day you won’t need me anymore. You’ll get bored and…you’ll leave. What would I do if you didn’t _need_ me anymore?”

“Don’t talk like that, Makoto. Please.”

“You love me?”

“So, so much.”

“Come here. Pleeeeaaaase.”

Haruka got under the covers, glad that Makoto was plastered, and probably wasn’t going to remember this conversation in the morning.


	21. do you want to come up to my room?

21

do you want to come up to my room?

Now that Haruka was confident that she loved Makoto, and she had decided that winter break would be the end, she was desperate to see Rin. There was a taste, a tingle missing from her lips, a certain tangible feeling no longer sitting on her palms. Her tongue felt dryer than usual and she had to put on more chapstick. But for some reason, during the entire week after Makoto’s birthday party, Rin wouldn’t return Haruka’s texts or calls. Didn’t even bother with a “too busy right now” or “need some space.” She just didn’t answer. Haruka wasn’t one for melodrama and theatrics, but by day 5 it was getting to her, and it was growing hard to hide behind her façade of stoic ocean water. Makoto noticed something was wrong.

“Something bothering you, baby?” she asked, laying in bed after sex.

“Hmm? No, why?”

“You just seem even more sullen than usual. Distracted, I dunno.” She kissed Haruka’s bare shoulder—but when Haruka fell silent, she didn’t push her. They were tired and affectionate, and Makoto knew better; she let Haruka be, because whatever it was (she reasoned), it wasn’t bothering her enough to warrant telling Makoto. And that was okay.

Makoto was wrong, of course. Haruka was excruciatingly bothered. It was just something she couldn’t tell Makoto. Sometimes, Rin frustrated her so much that she wished she could tell Makoto. She had a talent for knowing the right thing to say at the right time, a talent for staying steady and calm when everything around her seemed to be crumbling. It was one of the reasons she had been able to take such good care of Haruka—who had a tendency to crumble, if quietly. Makoto was the lighthouse during a storm. But this was a storm Haruka needed to weather on her own, and it was terrifying.

She tried limiting herself to one text message a day. Only one text message to Rin, fishing for a response, and if she didn’t respond, Haruka would just try again the next day. Slow, painful, excruciating, especially as she was met with silence every day. She tried different times of the day, too. Morning, after breakfast, during class, after lunch, before dinner, before bed. While she sketched all day (when she wasn’t in class), working even harder than usual to prepare her application for the Louvre fellowship, she would obsessively check her phone. At first, every twenty minutes. Then, every five. Then, practically every minute. With each blank screen she descended further into chaotic hopelessness.

The morning of the seventh day of silence from Rin Matsuoka, Haruka could hardly find the energy to get out of bed. Looking at her silent phone had become exhausting. Makoto came in around 8:30, to remind Haruka that she had a meeting and should have breakfast—but she noticed immediately that something was amiss. She stroked Haruka’s hair and asked her what was wrong.

“I’m just tired. You know?”

“I know.” She leaned down and kissed her forehead. “But you’ll feel better if you get out of bed. Come on.”

They had a quick breakfast, and Makoto escorted Haruka to her meeting. It was a meeting for the school’s art magazine; Haruka was one of the editors, mostly just in name. The editor-in-chief, a preppy, irritatingly charming girl named Kisumi Shigino, had begged her to join once she realized that Haruka was hailed as the best artist in the school. Haruka had agreed to come to the meetings and submit her art, and occasionally give her opinions on other pieces. Nothing more than that. She sat through the meeting, a few hours, sketching. She was not paying attention at all until she was dragged out by Kisumi for lunch, to the student center. She couldn’t get enough of quiet, brooding, prodigal Haruka Nanase.

Haruka didn’t particularly like Kisumi. She was too loud and nosy, and obviously thought she was much cooler than she actually was, and Haruka hated that in a person. Fronting. Posing. She was nice, and she appeared to certainly like Haruka, but Haruka could only pretend to be polite. She picked at her grilled cheese, bored, surrounded by too many people on Saturday in the student center during lunch. A lot of men were on campus at this time of day; the guys who had come to campus and stayed overnight with their girlfriends, and were now invading this campus like parasites. Haruka hated when they were here. It was one reason she tended not to leave her room or the art building on the weekends, and gripped Makoto like a lifesaver.

Kisumi was in the middle of saying something when Haruka interrupted and said, “I’m going to get some soup for my grilled cheese. Be right back.”

Before Kisumi could finish her sentence, Haruka stood and dragged herself over to the soup station. But as she was filling her bowl, she saw a flash of red in the corner of her eye. The flicker of a flame. She turned, and there she was. Sitting in a booth by the window, the same booth that she and Rin often sat at, but she was with someone else. A small, nervous-looking girl, with silver hair and a cute little mole under her right eye. Rin didn’t seem to have noticed Haruka—she was smiling, laughing with the girl across from her. Haruka’s skin became cold, then hot in the next instant. She felt rage and sadness all wrapped in one. She put her bowl, half-filled, down on the counter, and walked over. Rin noticed her when she was a few feet away. The smile disappeared from her face.

“Hi, Rin.”

“Haru—”

“Who’s your friend?” Anger and fear made her bolder. Not louder, just a bit bolder.

“This is Aiichiro…”

“Aiichiro Nitori. Nice to meet you.” The girl reached her hand out, and Haruka shook it.

“I’m Haru.”

“Oh! _You’re_ Haru. Rin has told me so much about you,” she smiled.

Haruka glanced over at Rin; Rin met her gaze, dry, unamused. Haruka stared right back.

“Good things, of course,” Aiichiro clarified.

“Nice to hear. I have to go, but it was nice to meet you. See you later.”

With one last smile, one she could just barely manage, Haruka walked back to where Kisumi was sitting, without her bowl of soup. Because she knew exactly what Rin wanted, and in that moment, she didn’t want to give it to her.

 

* * *

 

Aiichiro was smitten with Rin, and Rin knew it. Because of course she did. How could she not? Aiichiro’s eyes looked like stars when they shined on Rin’s face. They shared a few classes together, but Aiichiro was interested in being a doctor—like Sousuke. Though it seemed she admired Rin much more. Sousuke was intimidating. Rin understood that. When Aiichiro had asked her to have lunch, Rin had agreed, excitedly, but that had all melted away as soon as her eyes had fallen on Haruka. Now, as Aiichiro’s mouth ran like a nervous child, her gaze kept flickering over to where Haruka was sitting, across the dining hall. She couldn’t see her face, just the back of her head; like a smooth, dark pebble sitting in the sun, covered in water. Rin had been angrily, pettily ignoring all her texts, and she had the _nerve_ to just come over, say hello, and walk away. She knew how to get under Rin’s skin even better than Sousuke did.

Twenty minutes later, Rin saw Haruka and the person she was with get up to leave, and in that moment the only thing she could have possibly done, her only reasonable (not so reasonable?) option, was to follow.

“Hey, Aii—I’m really sorry, but I have to go. Do you want to have lunch again tomorrow?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Absolutely!”

“Awesome. I’ll text you.” Rin flashed one last smile, gathered her things, stood up, and left. She tousled Aiichiro’s short, pin-straight hair as she walked out of the dining hall. Eyes fixed on Haruka Nanase’s back. She walked fast, just until she could reach her hand out and brush Haruka’s elbow with her fingertips. Haruka turned, floating, surreal, not all the way, so that Rin could only see the side of her face like a crescent moon.

“Hey,” Rin said.

“Hi.”

They were side-by-side now. The girl Haruka had been eating with was gone.

“What do you want?” Haruka asked. Rin could see right through her, and was furious with the act. She grit her teeth.

“Just walk with me, all right? Back to my dorm.”

“All right.”

They walked silently out of the student center, and Rin only dared to speak again once they were walking along the path to the dorm. About a ten-minute walk.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ve been shitty this week,” Rin began. Swallowing her pride, she figured, was a good place to start with someone as sensitive as Haruka.

“Yeah. You have.”

“So you’re not gonna bother to ask why I haven’t been texting you back?”

“I probably wouldn’t understand anyway, so no. But if you want to tell me, go ahead.”

“You’re mad. I get it.”

“And you’re an asshole.”

“Are you drunk?” Rin laughed.  

“Fuck off, Rin.”

“Sorry, it’s just that the only time you’re ever remotely like this is when you’ve been drinking,” she said. Haruka still wasn’t amused.

“A whole fucking week.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t even imagine what I possibly could have done to warrant that. You’re just a piece of shit.”

“All right, let me explain.”

“Fine. You have 8 minutes.”

“I was mad. After Makoto’s birthday party.”

“Makoto’s birthday party? What are you talking about?”

“When you blew me off.”

“Blew you _off?_ You do realize it was her birthday.”

“I don’t know how to make it more obvious to you that I’m sensitive, and needy, and shitty sometimes. I really don’t.” Rin was getting frustrated now. She had no right, and she knew it; it was never fair, the way she expected people to gain an understanding of her based on the ways they were hurt by her. But Sousuke had managed it. How come Haruka hadn’t figured it out yet?

“Trust me, I get that. I get that you need attention, and affection, and you need people obsessing over you all the time,” Haruka said, “but we’re not dating, Rin. Most of the time, if you text me, I’ll be there, because I crave affection and attention, too. And you give it to me. But we’re not together. I’m with Makoto. She’s always going to take precedence over you, okay? The way that Sousuke takes precedence over me.”

Rin stopped. Haruka kept walking for a few steps, and then she stopped, too. Rin was floored.

“I’ve never heard you talk like this,” she replied. “What’s all this precedence bullshit? I mean, I know we’re not _together_ , together, but…I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I thought this was more than just craving attention.”

“I don’t know. Is it?” Haruka turned all the way around and crossed her arms. “You’re the one who didn’t text me for a week, after I wouldn’t _fuck_ you on the night of my girlfriend’s birthday.”

“I don’t want to fight with you. Not here,” Rin murmured.

Haruka sighed. They turned around and kept walking.

“Me, neither.”

“Is that how you really feel, though? Like I only hang out with you because I like the attention you give me?”

Haruka shrugged, and that was like a nightmare for Rin. She knew she got carried away sometimes. She knew was a bitch, she knew she was overwhelming, but she didn’t want to break Haruka this way. Because it wasn’t true; she was even more selfish than that. The fact was that when she asked Haruka to hang out with her, it was because she wanted her. Rin wanted Haruka desperately. It was selfish, but not in the way Haruka thought it was. Not the same selfishness that defined her relationship with Sousuke. It was starting to dawn on her that she was in way too deep.

“Sometimes,” Haruka finally said.

“Well don’t. Because that’s not true.”

“If you say so.”

“I just—I have a temper. I get mad easily. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I would have done the same thing,” Rin clarified. “You needed to stay with Makoto that night.”

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want you.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted Makoto more at that moment.”

“Haru—shut up. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Yeah. Me, neither.”

For the rest of the walk, they were silent, but walking closer together. Their arms touching now. Rin reached her pinky out, to brush the side of Haruka’s cold, chilled hand. The air was cleared. They were both tingling. They paused in front of Rin’s dorm.

“Do you want to come up to my room?” Rin whispered playfully. Haruka glanced at her.

“You’ve never invited me up to your room before,” she said.

“Sousuke is studying with a friend in the city. Won’t be back until later.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry, I don’t have any candles or rose petals.”

Haruka smiled.

“That’s okay.”

They fucked in a bed for the first time. Covered in smoke and stale dorm room air, but smelling of flowers, lake water, wine, obsession. The bed sheets felt like old camera rolls, and Haruka’s skin lit up in neon pressed against them. Rin pushed her limbs down into the mattress, because she wanted to see them imprinted there forever, slender and long and aching for her. Her back always arched so beautifully when Rin put her hands on her hips and kissed her stomach. She was so malleable, lovely like rose petals unfurling, at Rin’s fingers. Rin put her hands on Haruka’s cheeks, tilted her chin up and kissed her slow and hard. Haruka moaned—she was moaning _for her_ —for _Rin_ —

When they switched, and Haruka straddled Rin’s hips, Rin opened her mouth to taste the ends of Haruka’s hair. Eyes open, so she could see the teasing, sugar cane sweet smile playing on Haruka’s lips, wet with her, a dream twisting into a too-good-to-be-true reality. It was a smile Rin would see for the rest of her life, every time she closed her eyes.

Just as they finished, Rin begged Haruka to let her take photos. Haruka agreed.

“You can even use them for your Louvre application,” she teased. Spread out on the bed. Like she knew that she already belonged in the Louvre.  

It was there, after they’d fucked in a real bed for the first time, that Rin considered that maybe, just maybe, she was actually falling in love with Haruka Nanase.


	22. full circle

22

full circle

Rin and Haruka, it turned out, were both staying on campus over a long weekend, toward the end of November—about a week and a half after Makoto’s birthday. Makoto was going back home to spend the holidays with her family; Sousuke was going back home as well. She was taking the MCAT that weekend, and she wanted to be home for it. Rin and Haruka were finally going to spend an entire weekend together. Going to bed together. Waking up together. Rolling around in bed all day together. Making art together. Together, together, together. Haruka would be able to see Rin’s face first thing in the morning, right when she was waking up, buried in dreams of Haruka’s lips and fingers and hair. She would finally be able to watch Rin’s eyes close and hear her breathing slow as she fell asleep. She would be able to see Rin covered in sunlight, dancing around her tiny dorm room in the middle of the day, in nothing but her panties, because she was high and wanted to make Haruka laugh. Everything Haruka had been fantasizing about from the first moment she set eyes on Rin Matsuoka was going to be a reality, even if just for a weekend.

Haruka went with Makoto to the train station, and kissed her goodbye on the platform. She stood, watching the train disappear, shivering because it was cold, for longer than she’d meant to. Of course Makoto had invited her to stay with her family, but Haruka had insisted that she had too much work to do on her portfolio for the Louvre application. It wasn’t a lie. Even if Rin hadn’t been staying on campus, Haruka would have stayed. She liked the college when it was at its quietest, when most of the students were going home for a chance to escape the stress of campus. But Haruka liked it. Silent, dark, a little bit chilly, nothing to do except walk around aimlessly, without having to worry that she would run into somebody she knew.

Rin was waiting for her when got back to campus. They took a walk around the lake, had a quick lunch, and then went back to Rin’s room. They had sex, laid in bed for a few hours. Haruka sketched a bit while Rin kissed her shoulders and whispered compliments and dirty things in her ears. They ordered pizza for dinner, watched a movie, relished in their laziness and slow kaleidoscope affection. Later, long after the sun had set, they decided to go back out toward the lake. For a smoke.

 

* * *

 

_back to the beginning_

_full circle_

 

* * *

 

That was when Rin told Haruka she loved her for the first time.

There, on the hill.

And somehow, Haruka wasn’t surprised.

Not even when she replied: I love you, too.

_And meant it._

__

* * *

 

Even though, two weeks ago, looking into Makoto’s eyes, she had been convinced otherwise. Was that why? Because there was something in Makoto’s eyes reminding her of what love truly meant? And now that she didn’t have those eyes to look into, there was only _Rin Rin Rin_.

 

* * *

 

“I love you. I’m in love with you. Haruka Nanase, I’m yours.”

Later that night was when Haruka asked Rin if she thought they were evil, the way that Haruka did. If she felt the same self-loathing that Haruka had unknowingly (until that moment) been feeling since she’d first met Rin Matsuoka, the wrecking ball, the chains around her wrists. And Rin replied, “Ask me in the morning,” and fell asleep. But Haruka didn’t even get a wink of sleep. She was staying awake, thinking of Makoto, so hopelessly in love with her—thinking of Sousuke, so hopelessly in love with Rin—thinking of how evil it was to break their hearts.

Now, she was back to square one.

Rin Matsuoka loved her.

She couldn’t possibly leave Rin now.

* * *

 

_back to the beginning_

 

* * *

 

They spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning together. But on Sunday evening, when Sousuke and Makoto made their way back to campus, back to their lovers, things went right back to normal. Rin and Haruka returning to their perfect, idyllic relationships, pretending that everything was as fine as it seemed. Because everybody around them, every single person on campus, envied their relationships. Rin and Sousuke, Haruka and Makoto, they’re such perfect couples, how is it possible for them to be so beautiful and lovely together? Nothing to complain about. Incredible synergy. Sparks, comfort, _love_ , and still it left a gaping hole in Haruka’s heart. What’s missing, the voice in her head asked. What does Rin give you that Makoto can’t, the voice pestered.

_I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know._

* * *

 

In the next few weeks, leading up to the month-long winter break between semesters, everybody hunkered down for finals. Makoto spent more time in the library than Haruka would have liked, and Sousuke, though she had already finished her MCAT, lamented the fact that she still needed to have a good GPA to get into a good medical school, so she was studying like a madwoman. A true intellectual. Haruka and Rin had their own finals to deal with, but it came more naturally to them; they didn’t mind spending late nights in the dark room, or the art library sketching. Nobody questioned them or even batted an eyelash (except for Nagisa) when they studied obsessively together over those few weeks. They could hardly be found separate. In the mornings they could be found in a corner of the art library, at a large table, working tirelessly and intensely on their final portfolios, or studying for their art history finals. They hardly spoke, they were so immersed in their work. Then, around noon, they could be found having a leisurely, full-of-smiles lunch. Back to the library they went—in the afternoon up until dinner they were there. Sometimes they could be caught exchanging work, giving constructive criticisms, speaking in hushed, playful tones with their lips maybe too close together?

Meanwhile, Sousuke and Makoto buried themselves in their books, isolated, in the libraries. Sousuke had the impending stress of a biochemistry final and a physics final. Makoto had an education history final looming over her, as well as a political science course final. Rin and Haruka wouldn’t have survived—then again, Sousuke and Makoto wouldn’t have survived their portfolios, either. Sousuke had said it herself, when she’d first really met Haruka.

_“Could never do what you do, though. Art is lost on me.”_

But the two of them, they were obsessed with art, and obsessed with each other. Now that they had finally thrown themselves into the abyss and said the three demonic words—I love you—they found they couldn’t get enough. In the library—

“That’s a cute sketch, Haru.”

“Thanks.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

At lunch—

“Grilled cheese, again?”

“Yes.”

“You never branch out.”

“Nope. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Fucking in Rin’s professor’s office—

“Right there…”

“God, you’re so hot.”

“Don’t stop…”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Fuck, if you ever stop saying that to me, I’ll go crazy.”

“You’re already crazy.”

“ _We’re_ already crazy.”

“I told you not to stop.”

Each time they said it, it felt new and fresh on their tongues, like the taste of each other the first time they’d kissed. And each time they said it, it felt more significant, heavier, so they kept saying it to feel the pressure of it on their chests, forcing the breath out from their lungs and into the shadows against each other’s skin. Saying it was an adrenaline rush, and they became addicted to the goosebumps, the shimmering lips, the racing hearts and butterfly stomachs, the hitch of their voices when they suddenly quieted their voices to keep anybody from hearing—and still, they heard each other as if their voices were already there in their minds, ready, meant to say “I love you” over and over over until dizziness made them weary. They were spiraling, they were desperate, they could hardly go an entire day without seeing each other. Touches were liquid gold now, kisses were velvet rose petals dripping with early morning dew, bare skin was a sheet of snow covering a crystal ocean, an entire world underneath, totally unknown. They never tired of discovering each other.

This was it, Haruka thought, as she buried her fingers in Rin’s hair and kissed the tip of her nose. Salt, the peak of a mountain. This was it, this was Rin kissing her neck and making her holy, this was Rin touching her breast and crusting her with diamonds, this was Rin putting her tongue between her legs and making her an endlessly colorful mosaic. This was it.

 

* * *

 

“Rin…”

“Shut up. I just want to look at you right now.”

“But, Rin.”

“Shh.”

“We really fucked up.”

_brushing my hair out of my face, as if I’m worth it._

“I know, babe. I know. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“We could always stop. Let everything go back to the way it used to be.”

“Yeah? I guess we could.”

_don’t let go of me, I’ll fall apart._

“We won’t, though.”

“No. No, we won’t.”

 

* * *

 

When finals were over, Haruka left campus to spend two weeks with Makoto and her family, back in their hometown. Part of her was worried that she wouldn’t survive this sudden tear from Rin’s company—since October, they’d spent a ridiculous amount of time together (considering that they were going behind their girlfriends’ backs). And, still, the larger part of Haruka was relieved. She didn’t want to keep making the same mistakes, over and over and over. She wanted to make sure she was intoxicated with Rin. She wanted to test herself. If she still wanted Rin, even after two weeks of physical separation, then maybe it really was love. Maybe it wasn’t this undying physical lust that had drunkenly dragged them from fuck to fuck. Two weeks meant testing levels of dependence. The way she never had with Makoto.

And—it meant re-examining her relationship with Makoto.

It meant re-examining everything, clear-headed, free of the rose-tinted gaze Rin’s voice infused in her.

She didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she fell asleep on Makoto’s shoulder on the train, and slept for the entire ride. Dreamless, heavy sleep. When Makoto woke her up at their stop, she was disoriented, groggy, a bit more irritable than usual. Makoto was enamored by the droopy eyelids and pouty lips, the one-word answers and grouchiness. She felt as if it had been weeks, no, months, since she and Haruka had truly been together. Just the feeling, of gripping Haruka’s hand while she slept on Makoto’s shoulder, was wondrous. It had been too long since she’d felt this.

Makoto’s father was there to pick them up from the station and drive them home. He was joined by Makoto’s younger brother and sister, twins who, over many years of experiencing her nearly constant visits, had grown to love Haruka as if she were their own sister as much as Makoto was. One clung to Makoto’s leg, one clung to Haruka’s, and her heart was full with affection. She had watched them grow up and loved them purely and uncorruptly. Seeing them, gazing up at her with eyes as big as the planets, left her shaken—what would they think if Haruka and Makoto’s relationship fell apart? Would they even understand it? She hoped not.

Makoto sat in the passenger seat while Haruka sat in between her siblings in the back, answering Mr. Tachibana’s questions in the curt, tender tone that he had long ago become accustomed to. How’s school? Good, thank you for asking. Still sketching a lot? Yes, sir. Makoto tells me you’re applying for a fellowship in Paris, is that right? Yes, but it’s very competitive. I’m sure you’ll do great, you’re a bright and talented girl. Thank you very much, sir.

“Dad, stop pestering her. We haven’t been in the car two minutes,” Makoto said.

“What? Just making conversation.”

Makoto glanced back at Haruka, hands gripped on either side by tiny, sleepy fingers, but she just smiled. There was nothing new here for her. Only comfort.

Mrs. Tachibana had an entire dinner cooked—today was Makoto’s favorite, green curry, and tomorrow would be Haruka’s, mackerel. They all sat around the table like a real family, Makoto and Haruka brushing knees under the table while her little brother and sister wreaked havoc on their meals. Haruka had always enjoyed the company of Makoto’s parents; they were sweet, had been almost too accepting when Makoto had come out to them (Mom, Dad, Haru and I are in love), and since Haruka was a child they had welcomed her with open arms into their home. She had practically spent more time in their home than she had her own.

After dinner, after they had been begging all night, Haruka agreed to do a sketch of Ren and Ran. They had every sketch she had ever done of them hanging up in their shared room, and each time Haruka visited they wanted another to add to their collection. She happily obliged. She positioned them on the couch, Ran sitting and Ren standing behind her, like one of those old Victorian portraits, and while Makoto made tea and rubbed her shoulders, she sketched them as best she could. Their features were smaller than she was used to, their smiles a little bit brighter, she had to use a lighter touch to get it just right. But by the time she was finished, and their authentic, dainty faces were smiling up at her from the page, they had both fallen asleep. Haruka and Makoto carried them to bed, and once they were tucked in, Haruka ripped the sketch from her sketchbook and put it down on their desk. They would wake up to it. They would be excited.

Makoto and Haruka brushed their teeth side-by-side, brushed through each other’s hair, curled up in bed together like the old lovers that they were. As soon as they were comfortable, Haruka felt Makoto’s short breaths extend, and her grip loosened ever so slightly with sleep. Haruka closed her eyes and concentrated on those breaths, their entire lives released from Makoto’s lips onto her forehead. She concentrated on Makoto’s heart beat— _ba bump—_ and the ways it contained the laughs— _ba bump—_ and cries— _ba bump—_ and moans— _ba bump—_ and kisses— _ba bump—_ they had ever shared. She let it lull her to sleep.

And then she dreamt about Rin.  


	23. can we wait until tomorrow to talk about it?

23

can we wait until tomorrow to talk about it?

        Rin and Sousuke decided to go to New York City for a week, before Sousuke headed home and Rin headed back to campus for the remainder of winter break—she, too, needed the time and the headspace to work on her Louvre fellowship application. She wasn’t sure what being alone with Sousuke for seven entire days would entail for her; she really had believed, for a long time, that she loved Sousuke. She didn’t want to believe that she didn’t. But Haruka had ruined everything, had made her question everything about which she had always been so sure. The largest, most pragmatic part of her hoped that this trip would renew the love she’d vowed to Sousuke when they first started dating. But the romantic, loudest part of her hoped that it would affirm that she loved Haruka and that was it. Then the only problem would be convincing Haruka of the same.

        The week proved to be refreshing. She and Sousuke fought less often than usual, they ate more than their stomachs could take every day in New York delicacies, they walked street after street, hand-in-hand, talking each other’s heads off, they watched the sunset every day over the water and at night, back at the hotel, when they were just drunk enough to be absurdly happy, they had wildly affectionate, beautiful sex. It felt like when they had first started dating again, filled with the wonder and obsession and wholesome intimacy that had defined them. The semester had left them stressed and distant, and Rin realized that Sousuke had been right to suggest a trip—to bring them back together. It was working like a charm. Rin had never been so happy to wake up and see Sousuke sitting in bed beside her, reading a book, or scrolling through social media apps on her phone. She was lovelier than Rin remembered her being.

        She and Haruka still texted every day. Not as often as they did during school; Rin was busy with Sousuke, Haruka was busy with Makoto. Rin was beginning to understand what Haruka had said about giving precedence to Makoto. She realized, spending days and nights in Sousuke’s arms and feeling rejuvenated, that she should have been giving Sousuke precedence, too.

        At least, she managed to convince herself that for a while.

        That her love for Haruka was less than and different than her love for Sousuke.

        They were in a coffee shop one morning, the last day of their stay in New York. Their flight was that afternoon, and their wallets were thankful. They looked both exhausted and refreshed, in sweaters and jackets, sunglasses pushing their hair back up from their faces. Sousuke with her dark black coffee, Rin with her sugary frapuccino.

        “You look like you belong here,” Sousuke said. Rin pursed her lips and sipped from her coffee, an attempt to further prove Sousuke’s point.

        “Who knows? One day I’ll own one of those hugely successful galleries here,” she replied. “Only the finest photographers, mind you.”

        “Of course.”

        “You could end up here, too. Imagine. Columbia medical school.”

        “That’s the dream.”

        “Seriously though. Thanks for convincing me to do this with you, Sou.”

        “You’re not just saying that? You really enjoyed yourself?”

        “Of course I did,” Rin smiled. She reached across the table to squeeze Sousuke’s fingers. Just then, her phone buzzed—usually she had it on silent, but she must have forgotten to switch it off after her alarm rang that morning. Rin glanced over at it, saw Haruka’s name flashing up at her, but didn’t pick it up. Sousuke looked at it, too.

        “That Haru?” she asked. Rin nodded. “How’s her break?”

        “Good. Makoto’s family loves her like their own, so she just gets to relax and hang out with them.”

        “Until she goes back to campus?”

        “Right. In a few days.”

        “To work on that application. For the same fellowship you’re applying for.”

        “…Yeah.”

        Sousuke smiled, and squeezed Rin’s hand back.

        “You and Haru have gotten pretty close this past semester,” she observed.

        “Yeah, we have. I’ve never met anyone like her. We just click.” Rin stopped, and for the first time, actually tried to figure out what had brought them so close together. “I mean, we have similar interests, I guess. She’s kinda shy, but I worked hard to be her friend. And she was receptive to it. You know?”

        “Sure. What do you think will happen if one of you gets the fellowship and one doesn’t?”

        “I don’t think anything will change,” Rin said without hesitation. Sousuke incredulously raised her eyebrows.

        “You sure about that? It’s pretty competitive. And prestigious, for that matter. Whoever gets it could have their life changed,” she pointed out.

        “I guess so. But—”

        “I don’t know about Haru, but you’re competitive and sensitive. Are you absolutely certain that if she got it, and you didn’t, you wouldn’t hate her?”

        Rin was mad now. Offended that Sousuke would even suggest that.

        “Of course I’m absolutely certain. You think I’m that petty?”

        “I think there’s a lot at stake.” Sousuke sighed, took a sip from her coffee, and asked a passing waiter for the check. “I’m just saying, try to stay grounded through all of that. Friendships like you and Haru’s are rare.”

        As soon as she’d paid, she stood up and gathered her luggage.

        “We have to get to the airport, babe. Let’s go.”

        Rin didn’t like that Sousuke had brought up the fellowship, because now it was the only thing on her mind. She decided not to text Haruka back until she’d arrived back on campus.  

 

* * *

 

        On Haruka’s last night in the Tachibana household, she and Makoto decided to take a walk down the main street of this small town, by the sea, where they had spent their childhood. It was the same road they used to walk to get to school when they were high schoolers. And, despite it being practically midnight, they felt totally safe—it was that kind of town. They held hands, tightly, and Haruka gripped Makoto’s arm as they walked. It was unbearably cold, but wrapped up in their heavy jackets and each other, they didn’t mind. They welcomed it. Two minutes down the road, Makoto stopped and fixed Haruka’s scarf for her, so she “wouldn’t get a cold.” Haruka smiled softly and lay her head on Makoto’s shoulder as they continued walking.

        “I feel like we haven’t been here in so long,” Makoto mused to the moon. Haruka nodded. She hadn’t even had the chance to stop at home for more than a few days over summer, just to pack and move from place to place. A part of her, left dormant after a summer in New York and a semester in another girl’s arms, had come back to life here.

        “I almost forgot how much I love your mom’s cooking,” she said. Makoto’s ears were turning red, the same way they did when she was embarrassed, only now it was from the chilled night. And it was charming. It was one of the first things Haruka had really fallen in love with. That, and her infectious, persistent smile.

        “I wish you were staying longer. Ren and Ran always miss you.”

        “Me, too. But I need to finish this application.”

        “I know, I know. You’ll call every day?”

        Haruka looked at her. Makoto held in a laugh and kissed her forehead.

        “I know—if you didn’t, you would go crazy,” she amended.

        It took her back to her conversation with Nagisa, way back in the middle of the semester. When she’d first verbalized her worries that she was dependent on Haruka’s dependence on her. If Haruka suddenly didn’t feel the need to grip her arm like this, or call her every day when they were separated, for her own peace of mind, Makoto wasn’t sure where that would leave her. At least a part of her, a big part, would be empty. No longer needed or wanted, she would wander the world lost and soulless, reaching for the something Haruka had given her. More than just love. Because Makoto was convinced that love took work and, if you worked hard enough, you could find it anywhere; what she had with Haruka was different. Not love— _devotion_. With nobody to devote herself to, Makoto would surely fall apart.

        So she liked when Haruka confirmed that, yes, she loved Makoto, she needed Makoto, sometimes she was dependent on Makoto to function. To get up for class on time. To remember to eat meals and exercise and do homework. To get to all her meetings. To apply for important internships and fellowships. To provide a place to stay over the holidays when Haruka couldn’t go to her own home. It made the night warmer.

        “I have a good feeling about the fellowship,” Makoto suddenly said.

        “You do?”

        “I do.”

        “But…Paris.”

        “It’s far. I know.”

        “And I don’t know any French.”

        “That’s why you’re taking it next semester.”

        “I want the fellowship. I really do. But I’m terrified, too,” Haruka murmured.

        “That’s natural. It’ll be a totally new experience. But imagine all the doors it will open for you.”

        “You’re talking as if I’ve already been accepted.”

        “I told you. I have a good feeling.”

        “Do you have a good feeling about Rin, too?”

        The question was surprising to Makoto; they hadn’t talked about Rin the entire week, despite Makoto noticing that she and Haruka had been texting rather consistently.

        “Why do you ask?”

        “Because.” Haruka sighed, a long, sad sigh, a sigh that compelled Makoto to kiss her again. “I’m worried that if I get it and she doesn’t, she’ll be mad.”

        “Haru.” They stopped walking. Makoto stepped in front, so she was facing Haruka, and held her face in her gloved hands. She looked right into her bluer-than-the-ocean eyes. “If Rin actually gets mad at you for something like that, she doesn’t deserve your friendship. Because that’s not how friends act. She should be happy for you no matter what.”

        “Yeah…”

        “I know for a fact that if she gets the fellowship and you don’t, you’ll be happy for her. You’ll support her. Because you’re golden from the inside out.”

        “Makoto,” Haruka blushed.

        “I mean it, Haru. You are so, so good. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise, and don’t let anybody, not even your best friends, make you feel guilty for going after your dreams. Okay?”

        Haruka finally nodded, like she meant it.

        “Okay.”

        “Good.”

        They kept walking, both satisfied and in love. In the back of her mind, Haruka was still worried, because she knew Rin all too well. And, just like Makoto, she had a good feeling about the fellowship.

 

* * *

 

        The campus was almost totally silent when Haruka stepped out of the uber in front of her dorm. Snow was pouring, the skies were gray, the ground was icy because nobody bothered to clear them off when there were so few students on campus. She thanked her driver and started dragging her first of two pieces of large luggage to the front door, where she found herself struggling to carry everything and find her key card through the shivers rushing through her limbs. Finally, she managed to kick the door open and drag all of her luggage in, where she collapsed on the front steps and ripped her hat from her sweaty, matted hair. As she began taking her gloves off her rigid fingers, her phone began to ring.

        “H-hello?”

        “Hey, hot stuff. You get back okay?”

        “Just walked into my dorm.”

        “You sound like you’re freezing.”

        “Well, it’s only -5 degrees outside.”

        “I’m on my way over to help you unpack, all right? I’ll bring hot chocolate.”

        “Okay.”

        “Be over in ten.”

        Rin hung up first, leaving Haruka to sit and will the warmth back into her body. When Rin finally did show up, armed with the promised hot chocolate, Haruka had the door to her room propped open, and was curled up in bed, weak-willed and exhausted after realizing the elevators weren’t working and she’d had to drag all of her luggage up all the flights of the stairs.

        “Haru! You could’ve waited, you know,” Rin said as she walked in.

        “Close the door, please.”

        She kicked the door closed behind her, put the stuff down on the desk, and knelt by the bed where Haruka lay.

        “Your clothes are wet. You should at least change,” Rin began, but Haruka immediately began shaking her head.

        “I’m too tired to unpack.”

        “Come on, if we do it together, it’ll take, like, ten minutes.”

        But Haruka kept on shaking her head. Rin, amused, charmed, so happy to see Haruka again, kissed her frigid red nose and tousled her hair. And then, ignoring Haruka’s protests, she pulled her up and forced her legs over the side of the bed. She kissed Haruka’s lips, and unzipped her jacket—unbuttoned her sweater—pulled her shirt over her head—unhooked her bra—took off her shoes. She forced Haruka up onto her feet and unbuttoned her pants—slid them down—left Haruka in nothing but her underwear.

        “Just keep this on while we unpack,” Rin said, wrapping the blanket on the bed over Haruka’s shoulders. In the next moment, Haruka’s head was on Rin’s shoulder, their chests pressed together, her ragged breaths surprisingly hot on Rin’s neck. Rin held her.

        “I’m really glad to see you, Rin,” she whispered.

        “I’m glad to see you, too, Haru.”

        “I missed you more than I thought I would.”

        “Should I be insulted?”

        “And I don’t know how to deal with being in love with two people at once.”

        “Hey, don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just focus on getting your shit together.”

        “Okay.”

        They unpacked everything, Rin putting things as Haruka directed her to. She liked the feeling of Haruka’s clothes in her hands.

        As soon as they were together again, it was like the turn of a switch, casting Makoto and Sousuke back into the shadows of numbness and dissatisfaction; in each other they found again sparks that were such a rush, sparks that were so blinding, they forgot the happiness that came with routine and uneventful love. Both of them felt it. They felt the past few weeks that they’d spent slipping away again in the face of heated touches, desperate kisses, staring into each other’s eyes and seeing the one thing they desired, _desired_ , desired, above all else. Different than love, less than, more than, they didn’t know, how could they know, they wanted each other and they’d forgotten that they wanted each other and now they were together and they remembered.

        After they’d finished unpacking and had inevitably fallen into the sheets, Rin helped Haruka into her largest sweater and made the instant hot chocolate. They sat on the bed, cross-legged, leaning against the wall. Haruka hated herself more than ever in that moment, because she had been hoping that being away from Rin would’ve dispelled the trance she had set on her. That being with Makoto would remind her of real love.

        But it was the opposite. Now that she was with Rin again, Makoto was disappearing.

        “Hey, Rin,” Haruka said, voice still hoarse. The hot chocolate slithered rough and delicious down her throat.

        “Yeah, what’s up?”

        “Can we, maybe, talk about this?”

        “About what?”

        “This. What we’re doing.”

        Rin looked at her, stoic, before finally releasing a deep breath and letting her eyes wander to the ceiling.

        “Yeah. I guess we should.”

        “I think it’s more complicated now than we meant for it to be.”

        “Because I fell in love with you, you mean.”

        “I fell in love with you, too. But yeah.”

        “Can we wait until tomorrow to talk about it? At least?” Rin put her head in Haruka’s lap and gripped her legs with the grip of someone truly ravaged with affection. “I just want to be here with you right now.”

        “Sure.”

        “I do love you, Haru. I’m not just saying that.”

        “I know,” Haruka replied. “That’s the problem.”


	24. if we don't trust our hearts, what is there left to trust?

24

if we don’t trust our hearts, what is there left to trust?

In a dark corner of the library, both of them were able to be productive. Nobody other than the student worker was ever in there. They had all of it to themselves—every book on every shelf, every framed photograph and piece of art, every table for them to spread out their portfolios and works-in-progress. To procrastinate, in between working on her portfolio, Haruka would do quick, rough sketches of Rin as she worked. Her body curled like a fishing hook, flipping through photographs and editing them on her computer with a serious, deadpan look in her narrow eyes. Sometimes she tied her hair back, and Haruka captured the image in her brain and did a sketch of her doing just that. Hands behind her head, gathering as much of her short hair as she could into that little black hairtie. Occasionally, Rin would slide a photograph across the table and ask Haruka what she thought.

“Incredible,” she would say.

“That’s what you always say. I need constructive criticism.”

“I don’t know, it just looks perfect to me.”

“You’re useless, you know that?”

“You still love me though, right?”

Rin would smile, pucker her lips into a distant kiss.

“Yes I do,” she would reply.

When Haruka showed Rin her work, Rin often tried to find the words to describe the things she found off. Maybe one eye is bigger than the other? Maybe the shading is a bit off here? I really don’t know, babe, but keep working on it. That was all Haruka needed, really, so she was satisfied. Rin was a good work partner. And, though neither of them said anything about it, there was a competitive tension between them pushing them forward. Despite Rin’s feigned optimism when she’d first heard that Haruka was applying for the same fellowship, they were both well aware of how rare it would be for both of them to get accepted. Then again, it was possible that neither of them were accepted. Worst case scenario, one was accepted and the other was not. The competitiveness, silent but ferocious in both of their chests, was a positive thing, they thought. To have somebody to motivate you was a gift. That’s what they believed.

Though Rin promised they would talk about “this” tomorrow, it was three days before Haruka found the courage to bring it up again. They were walking back to Rin’s room after a day at the library, arms intertwined, watching their breaths turn the black night white.

“Wanna watch a movie tonight?” Rin asked. “Your pick this time.”

“Sure, but…”

“What?”

“Can we talk first? Please?”

For the next few moments, Rin was silent. Walking one step at a time, boots crackling against the snow. Haruka watched her footprints appear, and let herself memorize the design on the soles of Rin’s shoes.

“I guess we really need to, huh.”

Haruka nodded. So they decided that once they were settled and warm in Rin’s room, they would talk.

 

* * *

 

_To love both people at once is hell. You feel your heart being pulled in two very distinct directions, two opposite directions, where one side is what you’re used to and the other is what you’re lusting after—reality versus dreams, at its core. You love the one who gives you stability, who loves you like habit, kisses you like a reflex, whose voice is the one you hear at night before you fall asleep because you’ve heard it so many times before. You love the person who is devoted to you, and you are devoted to them, and you love them because they give you comfort and the relationship isn’t work anymore it’s just love. Sweet, boring love. But you love the one who gives you excitement, who loves you freshly each time, kisses you like it’s the end of the world, whose voice is the one you imagine in your head when you desire. You love the person who fills the dull ache in your stomach with laughter and excitement and the highs of adrenaline rushes that come after fear. You love them because they complete the part of you that’s complacent, they instill you with passion and each day it’s new, never comfortable, always another challenge._

_Do you love more the one that’s easy, or the one that’s hard? Which is which again?_

_Makoto – stability._

_Rin – passion._

_Sousuke – devotion._

_Haruka – desire._

_There’s never enough love for everybody._

 

* * *

 

The conversation was long and hard. They both cried. Rin harder than Haruka, who tried harder than she ever had before to stifle it all. Rin had never known how to do that. She paced, wiping tears on the back of her hand, while Haruka sat on the bed with her knees hugged tightly to her chest. They weren’t mad at each other, because how could they be? They had both made the same mistakes, were tied up in the same lies, it was this stupid situation. They had both wanted this so desperately, but they’d let it go too far now, and they were confused and lost.

“I can’t imagine not being with Makoto,” Haruka said.

“I don’t know what that’s like. Sousuke and I haven’t been together for that long—but still, I don’t want to leave her,” Rin replied. “She is so good for me.”

“Better than I am.”

“N-no, I didn’t say that.”

“I know you didn’t. I am.”

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t know if that’s true. Why am I clinging to her?” Rin asked out loud.

“I don’t know if clinging is the right word…”

“Well I can’t think of a better one.”

“Makoto loves me more than anything.”

“Do you love her more than anything?”

“I mean…I thought so.”

“What do you think now?”

“That I’m just really, really messed up.”

Rin stopped, took a deep breath to steady her voice, and faced Haruka head-on. Haruka was taken aback by the seriousness in her face.

“Do you regret this, Haru?” she asked.

Haruka had asked herself the same question thousands of time, each and every night, every morning, every time she got a text from Rin, every time she called Rin’s name while she orgasmed.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I feel like I should. Because I would rather do anything than break Makoto’s heart,” she said, “but how can I regret something my heart told me to do?”

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we shouldn’t have trusted our hearts.”

“If we don’t trust our hearts, what is there left to trust?”

“What does your heart tell you right now?” Rin asked.

“Right now?”

“Close your eyes. Clear your head…” Rin began.

“And that one thing left after everything else is gone is how you really feel,” Haruka finished. What Rin had told her at the start of all this.

They both closed their eyes.

Cleared their heads.

“You, first,” Haruka murmured, eyes still closed. “What do you feel?”

“You go first this time.”

“Okay, fine.” She took a deep breath. “I feel like I hate myself.”

She opened her eyes. Rin moved forward until she was on the bed, right in front of Haruka, eyes shimmering.

“And I feel like I’m so in love with you I can’t even think straight,” Rin said.

Haruka broke down, because it was the last thing she wanted to hear, and still, she was so indescribably happy. It was a harsh, ugly cry, so unabashed that Rin couldn’t even bring herself to hold her. So she just grabbed her hand.

“I think I’ve just decided something, Haru,” Rin said, softly, while Haruka cried. Haruka knew what was coming, and began to shake her head, childish, guilty. “I’m going to end things with Sousuke.”

“No, please…”

“It’s not your fault. But being with you has made me realize that what I feel for her isn’t what I thought. I can’t keep lying to her like this.”

“But—”

“I’m not telling you to end things with Makoto. I can’t ask that of you.” She kissed Haruka’s hand, lips trembling. “I know that you love her. But I also need you to know. I’m so fucking in love with you, Haru. I love you. I love you so much it keeps me up at night.”

“Rin.”

“When I think about you, I feel nauseous from how much I love you.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Even if you decide you love Makoto more than me—I’m yours. Okay? I’m yours. Forever.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Haruka spat. “You don’t know shit about forever.”

“Neither do you.” She was smiling. Rin was actually smiling. “I’ll be okay if you decide to be with Makoto. But know that I’ll be here for you, always. You can come back to me.”

“Don’t make me decide. I can’t.”

“Keep clearing away the debris. Keep closing your eyes. The answer will come to you.” They lay down in the bed, gripping each other’s hands, foreheads pressed together. Haruka was overwhelmed and exhausted and couldn’t stop crying. Rin was crying, too. “Take your time. I’m here. And Makoto’s not leaving, either.”

“I hate myself so much, Rin.”

“Shh. I know. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel this.”

“It hurts so much.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“Why does loving you mean that I can’t love her anymore?”

“It doesn’t. It doesn’t at all. There’s no rule that you can’t love more than one person.”

“But I can’t be with both of you. I won’t be with both of you.”

“That’s okay, too.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“How about you just go to sleep? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Do you promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tell me you love me again.”

“I love you, Haruka Nanase.”

Haruka’s body ached from crying, and she clung to Rin, clawed for her, reached for her.

“I love you,” Rin repeated, voice softer, like flower petals against Haruka’s ear. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Haruka heard herself whisper. “I love you, too, Rin.”  

 

* * *

 

They tried their hardest to abandon stress for the next week that they were on campus together, before the halls once more started filling with students. During the day they immersed themselves in art and beauty in the library—sometimes so much so that Haruka had to stretch out on the ground while she sketched, and Rin had to do jumping jacks and push-ups to keep herself motivated. She took an obscene number of photographs of Haruka, and Haruka had doodle after doodle after half-assed doodle of Rin’s stupid, smiling face. She did want to include a sketch of Rin in her final portfolio for the application, but none of these were it. Probably the nude photo would be it. The one she had started after their very first kiss by the lake, early in the morning, on the day the world collapsed. She hoped, but never expressed, that Rin would use a photograph of her in her portfolio, too.

At night, they got high and drank too much wine, and danced to Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Fall Out Boy, anything and everything because the music didn’t matter, what mattered was that they were together. Most of the time they were in Haruka’s room (it was just slightly bigger and closer to the dining hall). They ordered a lot of pizza and Chinese food, they watched a lot of movies that neither of them remembered, they finally got comfortable and happy in this tiny dorm room clearly not meant for two people. Yet there they were. Thriving. Avoiding what was to come once classes started again. It seemed as if when they made love, it was even more passionate, even more dramatic, than before.

They treasured each other, even though sometimes, Rin was shitty. Rin took advantage of Haruka—Haruka let herself be taken advantage of because she couldn’t bear the thought of Rin not being happy. And always Rin betrayed herself with apologies and cherry blossom kisses, because there was a look in Haruka’s eyes when she was hurt and silent that made her hate herself. She tried to control her temper, but it was impossible.

And Haruka didn’t mind. She knew as well as Rin did—she’d come back every time Rin asked her to. She’d be there even when Rin told her she didn’t want her. Because she knew when Rin was lying, faking, putting on airs to make herself seem stronger than she was (a shitty habit, more like an impulse).

Despite it all, they treasured each other.

On the last day, they went together to the post office and sent off their applications, after they’d gone over them at least a thousand times. They both felt ready, they both felt optimistic, they both felt hopeful. They went back to campus to spend their last day together in bed.  


	25. je t'aime

25

_ je t’aime _

The day classes started, Haruka texted Nagisa and Rei and asked if they would let her sketch them again. Rei agreed enthusiastically and gratefully, but Nagisa less so. Haruka understood why—the deadline Nagisa had given her for choosing was up. Nagisa was too good of a person to watch one friend get her heart broken, and one friend make the mistake that did it. She wasn’t a judgmental person, not in the slightest, but she would take bullets for the people she loved and Makoto and Haruka were high on that list. Nagisa didn’t have trouble making friends, but still, Makoto and Haruka had been there for her during the tough transition into college. As a first-year, they’d taken her under their wing, the three of them had grown absurdly close and yet, Nagisa had never once felt like a third wheel. They didn’t treat her like that. She loved them, she really did. And she wasn’t going to let Haruka destroy her relationship with Makoto like this.

Rei and Nagisa came to Haruka’s room one night after classes were over and Rei was satisfied with the amount of studying she’d gotten done. She positioned them on the bed, as if they were lovers, because they were. In them Haruka saw the rawest, purest kind of love, the one that shined in clear pastels and ran deep. They looked like angels together, making each other’s wings brighter. It was one of the only times in her life Haruka found that she really couldn’t do justice to how lovely they looked in her sketch. Suddenly, they were just caricatures. Just lines. Reduced to paper. Midway through, she paused, taking note of the pervasive silence that had characterized the session up until that moment.

“Hey, Rei,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Nagisa told you, right?” Haruka asked. Rei blinked at her, then looked back to Nagisa. But Nagisa was staring right at Haruka, with eyes darker than Haruka had ever seen them.

“Told me…?”

“About me and Rin.” When Rei started to stutter, Haruka gave her a tender look. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. You guys are in love. You tell each other things.”

“O-oh. Then, yeah, I guess. She did tell me.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“No, of course not,” Rei said, sitting up in bed. Nagisa sat up beside her, gripping her hand tightly. Now she looked more sad than angry, and Rei looked more confused than anything.

“It’s okay if you do. I’m not doing a good thing. It’s something bad people do. I’ve always believed that, even now,” Haruka continued. She looked at Nagisa. “Nagisa doesn’t think I’m a bad person, but she knows I’m doing a bad thing. It’s what makes her so good.”

“I really don’t think you’re a bad person,” Rei said, calm now, somehow knowing and gentle. “If you were a bad person, this wouldn’t be weighing on your conscience.”

“How do you know that it is?”

“Nagisa told me so.”

“You just got caught up in the wrong thing,” Nagisa interjected. “And you got confused and whisked away.”

“I don’t think that’s true. If that were true, I could’ve easily stopped by now,” Haruka argued. “But now I’m stuck.”

“Stuck?” Nagisa stood up. “How are you stuck? You just have to rip the bandaid off. I know you like Rin-chan a lot, but you two can stay friends. It might hurt a little bit when you first stop, because you’re so used to it, but that’s why you have Mako-chan. To help you through things that are hard and things that hurt. That’s what it means to love someone.”

“She told me she loves me,” Haruka said.

Nagisa and Rei both raised their eyebrows. They hadn’t been expecting that sort of twist. Nagisa especially had, with all her heart, believed that this was nothing more than a fling, an exciting thing that Haruka just needed to get out of her system after years and years with the same person doing the same things.

“Rin? Rin loves you?” Nagisa parroted.

“She swears by it.”  

“There’s no way. That can’t—”

Nagisa caught herself when Rei, having noticed Haruka’s crestfallen expression, elbowed her in the chest lightly. Nagisa knelt on the floor in front of Haruka and grabbed her hands.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Haru-chan. I just meant…she’s with Sou-chan, and you guys have just…” She paused. “I guess I don’t know what you’ve been doing.”

“She told me she’s going to break up with Sousuke. For me.”

“What?”

“She says she really, really loves me.”

“And…how do you feel?”

“I don’t know. I can’t figure it out,” Haruka replied softly. “It’s like my brain is a giant puzzle with pieces missing, and I can’t figure out the big picture.”

“And your brain and your heart are telling you different things,” Rei added. Haruka gave a hesitant nod. That had been the problem from the beginning. She could barely interpret either of them except with the knowledge that they were at odds.

“I think I love Rin, too,” she finally said.

“Haru-chan, what are you saying?”

“I love both of them. I really do. And I feel lost. I don’t want to lose either of them.”

“But you can’t keep doing this,” Nagisa said. “Imagine how Mako-chan would feel if she found out.”

“Wait.” Haruka gazed up into Nagisa’s bright, tear-filled eyes. “Are you saying you’re not going to tell her?”

“I told myself I would, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it,” she murmured, “not when I see you like this and imagine what it would do to her.”

“But you said—”

“I know. And I still think you’re being unfair. But you need to figure things out. I guess…things are different now?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“If you really love her. Rin, I mean.”

“I think I do.”

“Think about what it means to love,” Rei said. “Maybe going back to the very meaning of your feelings, back to the beginning, will help you sort everything out.”

“I just want you to keep talking to me. And being honest with yourself,” Nagisa clarified. “I want to help you, Haru-chan. I love you so much, and I just want to see you and Mako-chan happy. That’s all I want.”

“I love you, too, Nagisa. And you, Rei.”

Rei looked taken aback, but Haruka reached her hand out. Encouraged, Rei knelt beside Nagisa and held her hand.

“We haven’t known each other long, but I love you, too,” Haruka said to her. “For not thinking I’m a bad person.”  

 

* * *

 

Haruka and Rin shared a class this semester: French 101, taken with the hopes that they would need it in Paris that summer. It was another excuse to do homework together, a way to sit next to each other in class and pass between them a small notebook where they wrote stupid, dirty things, trying to make each other laugh out loud in the middle of class and piss off the uptight, Parisian professor. Because it was an intensive beginner’s course, they had class all five days of the week, early in the morning—after each class they would have breakfast together. Rin learned exactly how Haruka liked her hot chocolate (plenty of marshmallows, milk chocolate preferred), and Haruka learned exactly how Rin liked her coffee (practically more sugar than coffee). They would sit across from each other, practicing all their newly-learned French words with each other, because they wanted perfect pronunciation and a good vocabulary. Haruka was better at memorizing the words, but Rin, already fluent in a few different languages, was better at speaking it coherently. They helped each other, were complementary, motivated each other to get better. One of the first things they taught each other how to say was, _Je t’aime_. It sounded so beautiful every time they said it. They both liked French very much.

Makoto liked it when Haruka practiced at night. The French didn’t always sound right, but it was charming coming out of her lips regardless. Sometimes Haruka asked her to help by reading through practice conversations, basic things like introducing yourself and telling someone where you’re from. _Bonjour, je m’appelle Haruka, ça va?_

“You’re gonna be fluent in no time,” Makoto would say, spread out on Haruka’s bed. And Haruka, usually sketching while she practiced, would laugh.

“Right,” she would reply. “I don’t even know if I’m gonna need the French anyway.”

“You will. You’ll see.” Makoto was always absurdly confident that Haruka was going to get the fellowship, so Haruka was confident, too, because when had Makoto ever been wrong about anything? When Haruka had shown her the finished application, Makoto had grown even more confident. The acceptance/rejection letters were to arrive sometime in March, so they still had a few months of anxiety to go. Despite her unwavering confidence, Makoto was already helping Haruka search for back-up plans. Internships that she could do over the summer. But Haruka was convinced that if she didn’t go to Paris, she would go back to the MoMA, despite her hatred of New York City, because they’d offered her another position after her work last summer. But Paris sounded better each time she said it. She’d never been out of the country. To start by living in Paris for a summer was a dream, and she wanted it.

Sousuke and Rin were a little bit less confident, not because they believed in Rin any less, but because Sousuke was a no-nonsense kind of person who was adept at thinking of things in a realistic way. She knew the odds. They were searching a little more intensely for backup plans, some even in Paris so that Rin could actually put to use the French she was working so hard to learn. Mostly in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles. Rin was half-hearted about applying to other internships, but she did it to soothe Sousuke—knowing that, in a week, maybe less, maybe more, she would break her heart. Because the love she felt for Sousuke wasn’t strong enough to overpower the love she felt for Haruka.

It was blinding, dizzying, nauseating, she could think of nothing else but the smile Haruka so rarely showed even her—the way she looked with her hair spread out like angel wings while Rin kissed her—the bright spark in her eyes while she sketched, dreamy, lost in space. Rin had never felt this way about anybody, had never felt such a deep-running connection with someone else, she was in love with Haruka in a way she never imagined possible, and it was painful to think that maybe Haruka didn’t feel the same. That maybe Haruka’s love for Makoto was stronger than her love for Rin. It hurt her pride, loath as she was to admit it. She had told Haruka that she didn’t need to decide right now, and shouldn’t feel guilty if, in the end, she threw Rin to the wayside. But that was all lies. Rin’s heart would be broken beyond repair.

She saw the rest of her life spread out before her, with Haruka Nanase by her side.

She just wasn’t sure how to get her there.


	26. why would I want to talk to you about it?

26

why would I want to talk to you about it?

 

Rin planned the break with Sousuke for after she and Haruka were to receive their acceptance/rejection from the Louvre fellowship. She wanted it closer to summer, because that would give Sousuke the space and time she would need to distance herself from Rin. At least, that was Rin’s thought process. And no matter what happened, she was so over-the-top in love with Haruka that even if she couldn’t be with her totally and completely, she wanted to dedicate herself to loving her. 

She changed her mind when the letters arrived in the mail one month earlier than planned.

 

* * *

 

Rin, Haruka, Sousuke, and Makoto decided to go out for dinner in the city, the four of them, so that Rin and Haruka could each open their letters and, no matter what happened, they would all be there for each other. No matter what happened, they could go out, get a little bit drunk, whether to celebrate or forget. They sat, Haruka next to Rin and Makoto next to Sousuke, they ordered a meal that was a bit too expensive for their college-age wallets, they shared two bottles of wine among the four of them. It was actually the first time the four of them were catching up with each other since the semester started. They asked Sousuke about her tough classes and research, and she assured them that now she had finished the MCAT, she felt much less burdened. They asked Makoto about her own classes, and whether she had decided what she wanted to do, and Makoto admitted to them (the thing she had told Haruka years ago) that she wanted to remain in academia—wanted, hopefully, to ultimately get a Ph.D in education. Haruka and Rin they knew all about. More than they did, even.

Rin was going to be a prolific and respected photographer, would own a famous gallery in New York City that celebrities and critics and everyone in between would frequent, filled with art that only she approved of. Haruka, as far as she knew, was just going to draw.

“I’ll put your stuff in my gallery,” Rin teased.

“What makes you think I’d want my stuff in your pretentious gallery?”

“All right, children, let’s settle down,” Sousuke laughed. “Is it that time yet?”

They all turned to look at the neatly folded letters on the edge of the table, one addressed to Rin Matsuoka, the other to Haruka Nanase. From an exclusive office working within the Louvre.

They each grabbed the letters, but when Haruka hesitated, Rin did, too. Haruka was terrified. The only possible outcome that would’ve made her absolutely, completely satisfied, was if they both got accepted, but Makoto had made very clear to her the low probability of that happening. If Haruka was accepted, and Rin wasn’t, then Haruka would be left feeling unrelentingly guilty. It would mean an inability to enjoy the fellowship, or even believe that she deserved it. If Rin was accepted and Haruka wasn’t, Haruka would be left heartbroken, still reaching for the ultimate form of her skills, but in the end she would be happy for Rin. Relieved for her. If neither of them was accepted, they would at least have each other to mourn with. But if they were both accepted, there wasn’t a single problem.

Haruka was afraid that opening this letter would cause an irreparable shift in her relationship with Rin (whatever it was), no matter what happened, and it made her freeze. Makoto could see it, in the way she stared blankly at the blindingly white envelope in her hands. From across the table, she grabbed one of Haruka’s hands and kissed it. Almost instantly she saw some of the tension melt away, in the little, helpless smile on Haruka’s lips. She squeezed her hand back, silently grateful.

“Ready, Haru?” Rin elbowed her gently under the table. With a deep breath, Haruka nodded. So they opened up the envelopes and pulled out their letters, which might or might not have had the ability to change their lives. And, at the very least, make French 101 worth it.

 

* * *

 

Rin and Sousuke decided to go to a bar. But Haruka wanted to go home, and she wasn’t going to be convinced otherwise. Makoto had hardly said a word before Haruka pulled her phone out, checked when the next bus was, realized it was only ten minutes away, and started gathering her things. Rin and Sousuke both remained silent, as Haruka stood up, expecting Makoto to follow. And, after leaving a few bills on the table, she did.

“We’ll see you later, guys,” Makoto said—Haruka already halfway through the door. “Have fun.”

“Let us know when you get back,” Sousuke replied. By the time Makoto had finished her goodbyes, Haruka was halfway to the bus stop, walking with purpose, needing to be away. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to face Rin now. She needed to be back in her room, needed to curl up in bed, needed Makoto to be there holding her.

“Haru.”

They had been on the bus for half an hour, wordless. Haruka’s head leaning against the turbulent window (she would probably have a bruise tomorrow).

“Haru, are you okay?”

Haruka closed her eyes.

“No, not really.”

“We knew this might happen.”

“And I still wasn’t prepared.”

“I know. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Haruka sighed.

“What are you thinking?”

“Just that I don’t want my friendship with Rin to be over.”

“If it really is over because of this,” Makoto said, “she wasn’t a real friend to begin with.”

Haruka put her head on Makoto’s shoulder. She knew Makoto was, practically, correct—but it still didn’t make her feel any better.

 

* * *

 

When Sousuke finally managed to get Rin home, she had blacked out. Since opening the fellowship letter she had barely stopped drinking for a minute. One after the other, starting with the wine, then a few vodka sodas, and finally three or four beers. And each time Sousuke, or even the bartender, tried to tell her that she’d had too many, she would get angry. Just give me another fucking drink before I start a fight. So Sousuke stayed sober as a judge, well aware of the fact that she would be the one taking care of Rin, the one Rin would be leaning on, the reason the bus driver wouldn’t get too pissed off when she was vomiting in the bus’s bathroom. She was annoyed, but she pushed that down, because today, for at least today, Rin could be forgiven. She couldn’t be blamed for reacting like this, especially after watching Haruka storm out without so much as a goodbye.

When Rin was stripped, stumbling, slurring her words and unable to stand, Sousuke helped her into bed and forced her to drink some water. She had miraculously not thrown up, and didn’t seem like she was going to, so Sousuke didn’t feel out of place getting into bed beside her. It would be good for Rin, when she woke up hungover and angry, to find Sousuke beside her. That was the justification Sousuke gave herself. She was mumbling as she fell asleep, gripping Sousuke’s wrists wrapped around her waist.

“I’m getting better at French,” she was saying. “Haru and I are both getting so much better at French.”

 

* * *

 

Makoto figured that Haruka hadn’t slept at all, because when she woke up at six, the way her brain had trained her to, she found Haruka sitting on the floor across the room, sketching. It wasn’t the way she usually sketched, light and meticulous. She was sketching aggressively, and every few minutes she had to sharpen the pencil because she kept breaking the tip off. Makoto sat up in bed and watched for a bit. Haruka was so engaged that she had her long hair tied up, something she almost never did because she didn’t like the way it created tension in her scalp, and she didn’t notice that Makoto was awake. The sight was both inspiring and worrisome—the last time Makoto had seen Haruka like this she had been on the verge of a breakdown. But god, she looked beautiful.

“Hey,” Makoto finally said. Haruka stopped sketching and looked up at her.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She was terse, and then she kept sketching.

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you.”

“I tried.”

“Can I see the sketch?”

“When I finish it, you’ll be the first to see it.”

“Hey. Haru.” She stopped and looked back up. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Makoto.”

“Come prove it, hmm?”

She could see how hard Haruka was trying not to smile, even as she put her sketchbook down, undid her hair, took her shirt off, and crawled on top of her.

“We haven’t even celebrated yet, after all,” Makoto murmured.

“ _Tu as raison_ ,” Haruka said, as she kissed Makoto’s lips hard and long.

“Paris isn’t gonna know what hit them.”

 

* * *

Sousuke was awakened by Rin mercilessly splashing water in her face.

“What the hell.” Groggy and grumpy after a night of playing mom, Sousuke pulled the covers higher over her body and turned her back.

“Get up! We’re going for a run.”

“How the fuck are you so energetic? You were blacked,” Sousuke shot back.

“Yeah, well, I feel better now, I wanna go for a run.”

“Fine, go for your run, I’m staying the fuck in bed.”

“All right, have fun, lazy bum.”

Next thing she heard was the door closing, and in the following moment she was asleep again.

 

* * *

 

Rin ran as fast as she could for as long as she could, around the lake once, twice, three times, even as the chilly morning air made her throat burn and her lungs plead for reprieve. But she kept running, until her legs gave out, and when that happened, she sprinted until she physically collapsed. Right on the edge of the lake, next to the melting, crystallized lake reflecting the sunlight back up into the sky, shifting it to shades of blue and grey. Everything was spinning, but she stared at the sky, watching it turn, and imagined that she could’ve been up there, too. Spinning and spinning and spinning into eternity, where she could finally just forget all the French she’d been stuffing into her brain. And, more importantly, forget all about Haruka Nanase.

* * *

 

The phone was ringing. It was three in the morning. Rin answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Uh, it’s me.”

“I figured.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“I don’t know. You’re up pretty late.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“Me, too.”

“Right. Figured that, too.”

“Are you…free to talk right now?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have answered.”

“Right. Okay.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“Just…sorry. I left you by yourself at the restaurant.”

“I wasn’t by myself. Sou was with me.”

“I didn’t say bye or anything.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.”

“It is, though. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m apologizing.”

“I know, I heard you, but you don’t have to. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”

“Take your pick of reasons.”

“Haru. Do I sound mad?”

“No. Not at all. And that’s why I’m worried.”

“Okay, fine, I’m a little upset.”

“That makes more sense.”

“Not with you. It’s not your fault, but just. Upset.”

“You’re internalizing. That’s not healthy.”

“Who told you that, Makoto?”

“And what if she did? She’s right.”

“Okay, but why would I talk to _you_ about it?”

“Rin.”

“It’s not like there’s anything you could do to make me feel better.”

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“This is ruining everything.”

“No, it’s just—”

“I’ll give it up.”

“What?”

“I won’t go. I won’t go to Paris.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“I won’t go to Paris if it’ll help you feel better.”

“Do you _hear_ yourself? How would that make me feel better?”

“I don’t know, I don’t understand you half the time anyway.”

“It doesn’t change anything, it’s just you being stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just on edge.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing you could do.”

“There are so many things besides Paris.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A-and you can visit.”

“I don’t think I’m going to break up with Sou anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m going to stay with her. She keeps me sane.”

“No she doesn’t. You’re just saying that now.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

“Because for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been with Sousuke, and you’ve never been sane for even a moment.”

“You’re being a real asshole, you know that?”

“You can tell me if you don’t love me anymore.”

“Trust me, if that were true, I would have.”

“Why do you always insist on acting like this?”

“Acting like what? You’re the one that’s being childish and indecisive. And I just realized that there’s no point in ending something really, really good for someone who’s not even sure that she loves me back.”

“I…I do love you. I am sure.”

“Obviously not enough.”

“Rin!”

“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Okay.”  

“Try to get some rest, Haru. I mean it.”

“Love you, too.”  


	27. dominate me

27

dominate me

Rin lied—she wouldn’t see Haruka in class tomorrow, because she didn’t go to class. Sousuke had predicted this and she hated her so much for it. The thought of seeing Haruka, sitting next to Haruka, speaking French with Haruka, going to get breakfast with Haruka, having to deal with the fact that, at the most basic of levels, _Haruka had beat her_ , was unbearable. Just a few days, she told herself. She would avoid Haruka for just a few days. And she would tell her about it—I just need my space, this doesn’t mean I don’t love you, please don’t take this in the sensitive way that you take everything. No matter what she were to say, Rin knew that Haruka would take it hard, but right now, she needed to worry about herself. Because she was hurting. The French was for nothing, wasn’t it? No, she hadn’t planned on this being a competition, because she had never even considered the fact that she and Haruka were both vying for prestigious spots in the same industry, despite their difference in media. They were both artists, which meant they were going to be competing with each other for as long as they lived. Rin didn’t want that. Rin was too competitive. She loved Haruka more than she could say, but there was nothing she hated more than losing.

After she knew Haruka would be out of class on Monday, she called her.

“Hey,” Haruka said. “You weren’t in class today.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Babe, I said some nasty things last night. I really am sorry.”

“Thanks. I forgive you. I always forgive you.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“Did you just call to apologize? You could’ve told me in person.”

“No, I know. I’m calling to tell you that I just need my space for a few days.”

“Oh. Yeah, right. That makes sense.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I know. Yeah. I know.”

“Haru, please don’t take this in the sensitive way that you take everything.”

“I…yeah. I’ll try.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too. I’m always a phone call away.”  

For three days she didn’t go to French class. She woke up, ran around the lake (Sousuke came with her), got food only in the dining halls she knew Haruka wouldn’t eat at, only walked the paths she knew Haruka didn’t take, hung out with the people Haruka wouldn’t. Her selfishness outweighed her love for this once. She missed Haruka desperately, missed her like family, missed her so much her body tingled at night, but the pain was strong and she let it lead her. At least for now.

 

* * *

 

In the meantime, Haruka felt like she was losing her mind, and Makoto was there for her the way she had always been, and it was confirmation that Haruka really was totally, completely, utterly fucked.  

 

* * *

 

On the fourth day of her self-inflicted separation from Haruka, Rin couldn’t take it anymore. Just like at the start when she had tried to force herself away from the enigmatic, dark-haired artist with those disturbingly blue eyes, she was drawn back to her like birds flying south to flee the cold each winter. She was ashamed, especially after Sousuke accused her of being shitty. Wednesday evening, they were sitting in bed, tired after a few hours of ferocious loving, talking about Rin’s upcoming birthday. They wanted to have a party.

“So,” Sousuke said, a mischievous look in her eyes, “you inviting Haru?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s my best friend,” Rin shot back.

“Oh yeah? That why you’ve been avoiding her like the fucking plague?”

“Hey, we talked about this. I just need space to accept that she beat me,” Rin replied.

“Beat you? You fucking asshole,” Sousuke laughed. “You think _she_ thinks of this as a competition? No fucking way.”

“Either way! It hurts, okay?”

“I told you.”

Rin sat up, blood boiling, angry tears flashing at the corners of her eyes.

“You _told_ me?”

“I told you to be prepared for this. I know you, and I _knew_ how upset you would be if Haru got the fellowship and you didn’t, but you kept insisting that nothing could come between you two. But here you are.”

“It’s not ‘coming between us,’ I just. Need. Space.”

“Yeah. All right. Maybe that’s how you see it,” Sou replied, head still pressed down on the pillow. She looked so calm, so smug, Rin could’ve slapped her. “I don’t know Haru half as well as you do, but this is probably killing her.”

“I—”

“If you got this fellowship, and she didn’t, how would she be reacting?” Sousuke asked. Rin held her breath as the answer flashed in her mind.

“She’d…she’d be sweet. Happy for me. Supportive.”

“I’m not telling you to hide your feelings from her. But don’t be such an asshole, especially when you know how soft she is.”

Rin knew Haruka’s schedule almost as well as her own, so on Thursday, right after lunch she walked the five minutes from her dorm to Haruka’s. This was the time that she spent sketching in her room, waiting for Makoto to get back from class. The window would be open despite the cold, and she would have headphones on, but she always forgot to lock the door so even if she couldn’t hear Rin knocking, Rin would be able to get in. She walked up the stairs and kept her head down, dripping from the light snow outside, until she reached the top floor. Where she waltzed up to Haruka’s door and knocked. There was no answer. After a few seconds, she knocked again, harder, louder, and called Haruka’s name. A few moments later, Haruka opened the door, still taking her earbuds out.

“Rin,” she said, visibly surprised.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

Haruka stepped aside to let Rin enter, and closed the door. As soon as she heard the latch click, Rin whirled around, pushed Haruka against the door, pushed her leg up between hers, and kissed her.

“Rin—”

“Just shut up for a second,” she murmured against her lips. Haruka obeyed, willingly, and let herself be kissed, be pinned against the door, let her hair be pulled and her lips be bitten and her skin touched. It was only at that moment that Rin realized just how much she had missed Haruka, though Haruka wasn’t surprised. She’d been desperate.

They scrambled to the bed, stripping clothes so that it left a trail, and fucked hard and fast the way those who have been deprived do. It didn’t feel like making love, it wasn’t slow and sweet enough for that, they were just feeling each other fully, getting their fixes, getting high off the smell of each other and reminding themselves why it was they hadn’t stopped this yet.

When they’d finished with each other, both full, both numb, they lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m so, so sorry, Haru,” Rin said.

“It’s okay,” Haruka whispered. She squeezed Rin’s hand to prove that she forgave her.

“I’m not upset with you, okay?”

“I know.”

“I guess it just feels like we were in a competition. And you beat me.”

“But that—”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I know.” She turned onto her side, leaning her cheek on her hand, and used her other hand to trace patterns on Haruka’s stomach. She was ticklish, and squirmed a little bit. “But we’re both artists, you know?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“But I know you deserve this. And it’s okay that I didn’t get it. It wasn’t meant to be.”

“That’s very mature, coming from you,” Haruka grinned.

“Am I that transparent?”

“Yes.” Haruka puckered her lips. Rin kissed them. “You’re allowed to be angry. Just please not with me.”

“Okay then. I’m fucking pissed.”

“I know.”

“But I still love you so fucking much.”

“Just lay here for a bit with me. Until Makoto comes back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Still, kissing Haruka stung a little bit. Rin couldn’t justify it anymore. She really was hurting. Inexplicably. Always so inexplicably.

“Coming to my birthday party?” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll even get you a present.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of present?”

She rolled over until she was on top of Haruka, pinning her arms down, noses brushing.

“Tell me what you want,” Haruka said. She bit her lip, because she knew how much that turned Rin on, she wanted to make her wet and fuck her again. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

“Always so submissive…”

“So dominate me.”

“Can’t even fucking help myself.”

“I’d rather you not hold yourself back.”

“Whatever you say…”

“Dominate me.”

 

* * *

_Dominate me._

 

* * *

 

The rest of the semester was a blur. Haruka and Rin went back to their routines, except now both determined to salvage their current relationships, determined to somehow navigate this full-of-love yet loveless terrain of cheaters. In public they were devoted and envied girlfriends, and behind closed doors they only became more addicted to each other. Their suspicion that Makoto and Sousuke were none the wiser, despite how long it had been going on at this point (almost six months), was confirmed by Nagisa, who continued to desperately attempt some semblance of understanding. Each time they spoke, Haruka reassured her—she would figure it out. She would fucking figure it out. What was the point anyway? Over the summer she would be in Paris and she wouldn’t see either of them for the entire summer so _what was the point_ don’t worry _I’ll figure it out_.

Nagisa became Haruka’s confidante. As her own relationship with Rei blossomed, both of them took it upon themselves to help Haruka through this tumultuous time of misdefining love and uncertainty of her own emotions. Each time Haruka talked to them, she cried. They could see the way it was tearing her apart and despite their better judgment they couldn’t bear making her feel even worse about it. But Nagisa was reaching the end of her rope. She loved Makoto too much for this. She, too, was being torn. But she didn’t tell Haruka that. Haruka didn’t need any more to feel guilty about.

She was hardly sleeping at night, leaving her with heavy under-eye bags, even more spacey than usual, messier sketches, inability to hold conversation for very long. Rin and Makoto both tried to make her nap any chance they got but she tossed and turned relentlessly, even when Makoto bought her melatonin. Even managed to get her prescription Ambien. Some nights it worked, but most nights, Haruka was sleepless. Always exhausted. Hardly able to focus on the preparation for Paris. She had no idea what was to come, how this was going to play out, whose heart she would choose to cherish more and where that would leave her—she had no idea what was going to happen and the possibilities played like an old horror movie in her head every single night.

There were two things she couldn’t deny, two things about which she was very certain, two things that were the same no matter what fake scenario appeared in her mind.

First, that not being with Makoto would destroy her from the inside out, because Makoto was a part of her now.

Second— _that Rin Matsuoka would never stop lighting a fire in her heart, a fire that engulfed her, burned her to a crisp, left her thirsty and obsessive_. That Rin _had_ her. In a way that Makoto never had.  


	28. how could I ever claim to love her?

28

how could I ever claim to love her?

Winter passed into spring and suddenly the sun was hot and the rain humid, the ice on the lake melted, the giant winter coats transformed into light windbreakers and sweaters into tank tops. With the warmth Rin could finally convince Sousuke to run outside with her and take photos—Haruka could sketch outside, despite the persistent wetness of the grass, whenever she wanted. With the newfound light, Haruka and Rin started meeting before French class, as well as after; they would be artists together with the sunrise, sometimes by the lake, sometimes on the cobblestone patios of the dorms, obsessing over each other’s artwork. Rin loved the dark room and the mysterious, brooding vibe darkness gave her photographs, but sunlight gave them a different touch. Haruka, too, sometimes felt like a plant, gaining nutrients only through sunlight. Even when her sketches themselves were dark, the sunlight helped her bloom. As time had passed they sketched and photographed each other less and less, because they didn’t want to spend all their artistic energy on each other as they did their emotional energy.

As if to make up for how she had acted, Rin put more effort into improving Haruka’s French language skills than her own. When Haruka touched down in Paris, she wanted to be able to find her way around, with an accent that would help her fit into the role. There would be nobody there to help her, after all. Rin wouldn’t be there to correct her pronunciation or fix that slight mistake in conjugation. Makoto wouldn’t be there to charm her way into the hearts of strangers to get where she needed to go. Haruka, with her clumsiness, her quietness, her total and complete vulnerability, would be all alone. She even tried sketching a bit less—so she could spend more time on her French. It never really worked out that way, though. By the end of the semester, she had more than enough sketches, old and new, for the final art showcase. Where, hopefully, she could get a kickstart for finally selling something.

During the last week of classes, while the seniors were preparing to graduate and the rest of the campus packed away their lives for summer, Makoto suggested that they all go out to dinner. Makoto and Haruka, Rin and Sousuke, Nagisa and Rei; Rin even invited Aiichirou, the little sophomore pre-med who was arguably in love with her, though she couldn’t make it. They all went out to a fancy dinner in the city and, with Rei and Nagisa armed with their fake IDs (loath as Rei was to break the law), went out for a night on the town. Now that the weather was kind to them, they could roam through the park, walk along the river, travel the streets in a charming, brilliant, unstoppable pack. Haruka managed to keep herself to only a few drinks, because she wanted to take in the sights, wanted to feel Nagisa clinging to her arm and dragging her through the grass, wanted to remember this night with those she loved the most surrounding her—no matter what love really, specifically meant, this had to be it. She loved Makoto, depended on her. She loved Nagisa, her smile, her radiance. She loved Rei, her obsession with the beautiful things in life and her willingness to accept Haruka _as she was_. She loved Rin, no need for explanation there. She even loved Sousuke, how grounded she was, how she loved Haruka for being good to Rin.

As she looked around at the faces of her friends, running through the park, smoking cigarettes, rolling around in the grass and getting wine drunk with the rosé they snuck into water bottles, she was so filled with love that her heart fluttered. It was full, so full. She spread her limbs out on the ground and watched the city-pollution-starless sky, one hand in Rin’s and the other in Makoto’s, sinking her body into the earth to leave an imprint there that nobody would ever forget. Least of all these people. She could fall asleep here, warm and in love, and dream of these people and wake up and still want more of them. She smiled.

“I love you,” she said out loud, to nobody in particularly. And, like a chorus rising up from the core of the earth, they all sang back:

“I love you, too, Haru.”

And each of them meant it on a deeply personal and individual level, differently, and so strongly.

Nagisa was sitting in Rei’s lap, so happy and drunk, lost in Rei’s breath in her curls and Makoto’s voice speaking in the distance. Who was she speaking to? Sousuke, probably. Sousuke was so nice. Nagisa wanted to know her better. Even so, she still knew that Sousuke didn’t deserve whatever it is that was happening. Swaying, pushing her ass down into the grass between Rei’s crossed legs, Nagisa let her gaze float over to where Haruka was. Laying like a starfish in the grass. Rin was sitting up beside her, holding her hand, the drunkest of all of them. She looked like she was saying something in a hushed tone. Like she was crying a little bit. But she was always crying, then, wasn’t she? Nagisa couldn’t catch Haruka’s face. She was buried in the grass and staring at the sky. She must have looked incredibly beautiful, so serene. If Rei hadn’t appeared like magic in Nagisa’s life, she might have fallen in love with Haruka herself.

Sights blurry, Nagisa looked back at Makoto. On her feet now, pacing back and forth, relaxed and smiling while Sousuke tinkered on her cell phone. Rei squeezed Nagisa’s waist and kissed the back of her shoulder, silent. They didn’t need or want to be saying anything to each other. They always talked so much. And it was rare for Rei to get this drunk, Nagisa wanted her to savor it. Nagisa had been hoping that the drunkenness would help her forget the guilt she felt each time she looked at Makoto, but right now, it was proving to be the opposite. The longer she looked at Makoto, the worse she felt. She glanced back at Haruka.

_Not fair_ , she decided, suddenly angry, suddenly impulsive, she didn’t know the science behind alcohol and why it disinhibited you so much but she was certainly very susceptible. She unwrapped Rei’s hands from her waist and stumbled to her feet.

“Nagisa…?”

“I’ll be right back, Rei-chan. I’ll be right back.” Over her shoulder she blew Rei a kiss, but walked, in a very not-straight line, over to Makoto.

They hugged for a bit, Makoto pulling Nagisa’s tiny body into her much larger one, and Nagisa felt warm. What had she been doing? How had it ever been the right decision to keep things from Makoto? Without a word, Nagisa grabbed Makoto’s hand and pulled away from the others, back toward the river. Makoto followed without question or objection.

“Even when you can’t see the stars, the sky is more beautiful at night,” Makoto said as they walked.

“It just seems bigger somehow,” Nagisa replied. “I feel smaller. And that’s beautiful, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it.” They were holding hands, clammy, skin sticking to skin, they felt like they needed to be close and so they were.

Makoto wasn’t surprised that Nagisa had pulled her aside.

“Hey, Mako-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I love you a lot. You know that, right?”

“Of course, Nagisa. And I love you, too. A lot.”

“And…I would never do anything to hurt you.” She couldn’t help it. The tears were coming. It had been too long.

“I know that. You don’t have to worry,” Makoto said gently. She squeezed Nagisa’s hand. “I know that.”

“But sometimes I’m stupid.”

“We all are.”

“Sometimes I make the wrong decision because I have a lot of love for a lot of people.”

“It’s good to have a lot of love for a lot of people.”

“Haru-chan’s been cheating on you for months.”

Makoto didn’t stop walking. She just kept walking, kept squeezing, while Nagisa sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her other hand.

“I know.”

Nagisa then was the one who stopped. So abruptly that the pull on Makoto’s arm was rough. It pulled her back a few steps—she turned to face Nagisa, but could hardly stand the shocked, guilty look on her face. The resentment in her eyes.

“Y-you…what?”

“I know about Haru and Rin,” Makoto repeated. Her smile didn’t even shake.

“For how long?!”

“Pretty much since it started. The beginning of the school year, right?”

“Mako-chan…are you kidding?”

“Nope.” She smiled, a genuine smile, and encouraged Nagisa to keep walking. They would have to turn around soon so as not to get too far from the others.

“B-but. How?”

“Nobody knows Haru as well as I do. Nobody can read her like me. She changed, just a bit, after she met Rin, but it was enough. I’ve never had any way to prove it, I wouldn’t look through her messages or anything—but I can just tell. I know Haru better than I know myself.”

“If you’ve known, _all_ this time, then why…?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”  

“Because.”

When Nagisa looked over at Makoto, there was a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Because…?”

“Because I love her. More than I could ever love myself,” Makoto said. Nagisa heard her own heart breaking. “I figured, we’ve been together for so long, she just needed a taste of freedom. And Rin was the one to show it to her. I figured, you know. She just needs to spread her wings for a bit. If I resent her for that, how could I ever claim to love her?”

“Mako-chan.”

“She never stopped telling me she loved me. And Haru’s not a liar.” They turned around and started walking the other way. Back to the others.

“Mako-chan.”

“Hm?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh, Nagisa, no, it’s okay—”

“At first I thought I could convince Haru to come to you herself but then she didn’t and then I didn’t want to get into the middle and…”

“Nagisa, breathe.”

“I should’ve told you from the beginning, I’m so sorry, I _swear_ I would never hurt you.”

Nagisa didn’t realize that she had started sobbing until Makoto stopped and pulled her against her chest. Shushing her like a child, holding her tight, wiping her tears.

“I would never hurt you,” Nagisa repeated, again and again. “I would never hurt you.”

 

* * *

 

Makoto had to leave her by security, because she didn’t have a boarding pass herself. All she had was a train ticket for tomorrow at noon, leaving from the station closest to the college and going straight home. She had delayed it a day, to be able to drop Haruka off at the airport, because she would be panicking. Boarding a 10-hour flight to a place she had never been, surrounded by strangers, Haruka was going to panic. Makoto wanted to be the person soothing her—she decided not to tell Haruka that she knew. She was going to let whatever was happening run its course, and in the end, she and Haruka would be stronger for it. So for now she did what she had always done, and supported Haruka, held her up, with every bit of strength she had. They had been up all night packing (with the promise of ‘sleeping on the plane’), and had made a list of the things Haruka would need to buy once she arrived. An envoy of the fellowship was set to pick her up and take her to the room they’d be putting her up in, so at the very least she wouldn’t have to worry about transportation, but it was going to be the first real chance Haruka got to practice her French.

To learn how to swim, jump into the deep end, hope you don’t drown.

“You’re going to be incredible, Haru. You’re going to wow everybody,” Makoto whispered as she hugged Haruka goodbye. “No matter what happens, no matter what anybody says, you deserve this, and you are talented, and you are going to do such great things, and _you are good_.”

“I love you, Makoto. I’m going to miss you so much I can’t stand it.”

“I’ll call you every week, I promise.”

“If I called you every day, would you answer?”

“You know I would, love.”

“I wish you could come with me,” Haruka groaned. They pulled apart, kissed, kissed again, kept kissing because they couldn’t get enough of each other and Makoto was absolutely right—Haruka was panicking. Sweating bullets. Tachycardic.

“I wish I could, too. But we both have to tackle our own things,” Makoto said. “And we’ll reunite when you get back. It’ll be like you never left—aside from all the exciting French adventures you’ll have had.”

“I’m going to be all by myself,” Haruka said.

“Shh, I know it’s scary. But you’ll make friends.”

“But—”

“And even if you don’t, you’ll be too busy to worry about it anyway. Right?”

Finally, Haruka smiled.

“Right.”

“Before you go, take this.” From her pocket, Makoto pulled a small black box. Haruka held it in her hands for a bit, then opened it. It was a white gold bracelet, simple, adorned with a single charm: a dolphin. When Haruka was younger, she had been absurdly obsessed with dolphins—it was an obsession she had since grown out of, but Makoto didn’t believe in growing out of anything. As Makoto put the bracelet on for her, she noticed Haruka’s wrist shaking. She kissed her hand, tasted the salt in her sweat, then kissed her lips again.

“Now go. Before I change my mind and force you to stay here with me,” Makoto smiled.

“O-okay.”

“I’m always a phone call away.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Haru. Really.”

“ _Je t’aime.”_

“Call me as soon as you land.”

“I will.”

Haruka began her summer alone, across the ocean, armed with a bracelet and collection of photographs that Rin had given her. A collection, an illustration, of their time together. It was all she needed, she managed to convince herself. All she needed to survive a summer in Paris all alone.

 

* * *

 

_Je m’appelle Haruka._

_Ça va?_

_Oui, ça va._

_Je suis une artiste._

_J’aime Paris._

_Elles me manquent._

_Je t’aime—_

_Vous deux._

_Mais, oui, j’aime Paris aussi._

 

* * *

 

_Je t’aime._

_Vous deux._

 

* * *

 

Even on the first day of senior year, Rin wasn’t responding to Haruka’s calls. She hadn’t responded all summer. Not to calls, text messages, emails, nothing. She was desperate to tell her about Paris. About how much she had loved it. About how incredible and vibrant and full of light the city was, about how she had managed to fit in there as she had never fit in New York City. She was desperate to tell her that she missed her, and that every night she had fallen asleep going through the collection of photographs. There they were by the lake, there during a clandestine meeting in their professor’s office, there on the roof, there at the bar, there on a rare occasion in one of their rooms. That night they had danced to Whitney Houston all night. That night they had fucked until Rin had fallen asleep in the middle of it. That night they had eaten so much ice cream both of them got stomach aches.

But Rin hadn’t responded. The last time they’d talked was when, the day before Haruka’s flight, she had dropped Rin off at the train station.

“Have a good summer,” they’d said.

“I love you,” they’d said.

They’d kissed.

And then—complete silence.

Part of Haruka had hoped that distance from both Makoto and Rin would have helped her, but she had missed them both so fucking much it had only made things harder. Her sense of herself as an artist was wildly improved, but no. She still didn’t understand love.

A week into classes, after asking around about Rin every time she got the chance, she finally ran into Sousuke on the way to class.

“Have you talked to Rin? I think she’s ignoring me,” Haruka asked after the obligatory pleasantries. Sousuke was a bit on edge, in the middle of medical school applications.

“Oh, fuck. She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s taking a leave of absence for the year.”

“She’s…what?”

“She’s not coming back. Sorry, I—I assumed that she had told you.”

Haruka skipped class. And thought to herself—

_The decision has been made for me._

And she tried to convince herself that forgetting about Rin, the way Rin was forcing herself to forget about Haruka, was the best thing to do. 


	29. do you still think I'm good for her?

29

do you still think I’m good for her?

_It was never a decision I felt comfortable making, how could it be? I’ve been searching for what it means to love so that I can decide who to spend my energy loving, I don’t want to waste my love on something that isn’t real, but everything feels real. Different, but real. And then you left without so much as a goodbye and I thought, there. Maybe God does exist, and maybe He gave you a sign, told you that the only way I was ever going to decide anything would be if you left. Maybe He told you that she was the better one for me, I mean, objectively, she is, she loves me better than you do, I can’t depend on you, when have I ever depended on you? You’re flaky and you have the temper of a fucking volcano and I am so damn sensitive. But I was never able to admit that to myself. Maybe this is you taking the high road. I should be glad. I don’t have to make the decision now. I can just pretend that you never loved me and I never loved you, and please don’t come back because even now this isn’t a decision I can make—loving her still feels right but when you’re around, right and wrong don’t mean anything anymore._

 

* * *

 

In front of the mirror, Haruka could finally stand to look at her reflection. As Makoto stood behind her, smiling gently as she brushed through Haruka’s hair and began to braid it. For this one night, Haruka wanted it out of her face. Wanted some fancy braid, or chignon, or any style Makoto felt like doing, because she wanted her face to be clear for everyone. Makoto was humming, and she kept reminding Haruka to relax—this was a big night, a night to celebrate, a night to enjoy everything she had accomplished and be recognized for her talents. This was finally it, the cherry on the cake of her college experience, everything she had been working for for years.

She helped Haruka into a beautiful white gown, one Makoto had forced her to try on, and zipped it until it held onto Haruka’s body, cradled it, softened it. Haruka even agreed to wear heels—short ones, but they were still heels. She was still inches shorter than Makoto, even though Makoto was wearing flat sandals, and when her hair and clothes were set, Nagisa did her makeup. Nagisa was more skilled than any of them when it came to makeup. She gave Haruka the light red lipstick so it would leave an elegant and charming mark on the champagne glasses, a bright, blue-tinted look for her eyes, to make them pop, just a little bit of blush, layers and layers of mascara, a sharp winged eyeliner. (She did Makoto’s makeup, too, but much lighter. Tonight wasn’t Makoto’s night.) Nagisa and Rei were invited, too. They all looked brilliant in their dresses, all a little less brilliant than Haruka. Among the four of them they split a few bottles of wine before the gala, and then they ordered a lyft and headed over to the venue.

It was a room in a conference center, rented out for the evening to house Haruka’s first official art show—after the Louvre fellowship and the support of the professor who had recommended her for it, the school, in awarding her honors for her artistic achievements, agreed to finance a one-night gala to showcase her artwork to the locals. Her first real public exposure. It was in the hopes that someone would buy her artwork and, more importantly, to find her an agent to carry her through after graduation in a few weeks. Nobody was worried about that, though. After tonight, even after returning from Paris, Haruka was going to be a commodity. Her success was inevitable. Makoto promised to stay by her side, and Haruka had begged Rei and Nagisa to come, too. The idea of having to be outwardly social, outwardly charming, with people who _knew art_ and were about to decide whether hers was worth showing, terrified her.

“Just talk about your inspiration and stuff,” Nagisa said as they walked in. “They’re not here to grill you, you know. They’re here because they see something beautiful in your artwork, and they want to ask you about it. Be honest. They’ll love you no matter what.”

“I’m not very tactful, though.”

“That’ll be even more charming for them,” Rei said, amused. “Critics love the idea that the artist behind the masterpiece has an unexpected personality.”

“Really?”

“Rei doesn’t really know shit about this stuff, she probably pulled that out of her ass,” Nagisa laughed. Still, Haruka felt better. In the back of her mind, she irrationally hoped that Rin would appear. Because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, despite herself, despite everything.

Haruka took Nagisa and Rei’s advice and, with the three of them by her side, actually managed to enjoy herself. She got into the routine of introducing herself, thanking whoever she was talking to for coming, and answering their questions candidly. They really did want to know all about her art, and she could’ve spent her entire life not only making art, but explaining it to others. Why this shading? Why this color? What is most inspiring about this subject matter? How do you find your inspiration? Why do you only draw portraits? So many questions, but she had the answers. This, she realized, was the way she wanted to live the rest of her life. This was a dream. With Makoto on her arm, it was actually coming true, and for the rest of the night, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Toward the end of the evening, Haruka’s professor got everybody’s attention for an announcement and toast. She thanked everybody for coming, thanked Haruka for giving them such beautiful artwork to look at and such ripe new talent to admire. She then announced that one of Haruka’s pieces, a portrait of Makoto, had been awarded a national art honors award, and was to be hung at the MoMA for the entirety of the summer. It was then announced that another of her portraits, the one of Rei and Nagisa on the bed, had been sold to a prestigious gallery in Los Angeles.

As everyone toasted to Haruka’s success, she began to cry. Overwhelmed with happiness in a way she hadn’t been for years. She wished, more than anything, that Rin were there.

 

* * *

 

A few days before graduation, Haruka received an unexpected text message from Sousuke Yamazaki. They hadn’t kept in contact much over the year, since their main connection had been Rin, but they had run into each other several times and had pleasant, if not menial, conversations. But Haruka hadn’t expected her to ask her to lunch. She said she wanted to catch up. Haruka agreed, and that day, they went into town for a casual lunch and a few beers. Sousuke was glowing, hair still dark and cut short, minimal but bold makeup, tall, droopy-eyed and intimidating. Her smile was soft and sweet and knowing, and her voice was honey as she thanked Haruka for agreeing to have lunch with her.

“I’m happy you invited me,” Haruka replied. “It’s been a while since we talked.”

“Yeah, it has. I heard about your art show, though. Congrats. That’s really exciting.”

“Thank you so much.”

“What are your plans for after graduation, then?”

“My advisor says I can pretty much go wherever I want,” Haruka said with a smile. “New York, LA, Chicago…”

“Back to Paris?”

“Back to Paris,” Haruka grinned. “I’m looking for an agent.”

“You’ll find one in no time, I’m sure,” Sousuke said. She sipped from her lager.

“What about you?”

“Headed to Cambridge, Massachusetts,” she said.

“Don’t tell me. Harvard med school?”

“Somehow, yes.”

“That’s incredible. I’m really happy for you,” Haruka said. And she meant it. She had seen Sousuke stressing for months over all this, and was glad to hear that she, too, was working toward her dreams.

Tense, awkward silence fell over them. There was an elephant in the room and they could both see it.

“Have you heard from Rin?” Haruka finally said.

“Yeah. We talk all the time.”

“Oh. So she didn’t…?”

“No, she didn’t break up with me. We’ve been doing long distance. She’s in New York.”

“How has it been going?”

“Hard as fuck,” Sousuke scoffed. “But we’ve managed.”

“I’m so glad.”

“I’m going to propose after graduation.”

Haruka nearly choked on her drink. Some of it spilled from her nose, and Sousuke had the napkin ready for her when she reached for it.

“Like…ask her to marry you?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh. Wow.”

“I know we’re young, but I also know what I want.” Sousuke smiled so gently then. Haruka was afraid that she was going to burst. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I’ll always love her, and I need her to know that.”

“I’m sure she knows that,” Haruka murmured.

“I know she hasn’t been talking to you. I mean, she’s been avoiding you, really. But I know she would love it if you were at the wedding.”

“You haven’t even proposed yet, and you’re asking me that already?”

Sousuke wasn’t fazed. She just nodded. Haruka took a deep breath.

“Of course I’ll be there. But…”

“But?”

“Do you remember Halloween when we were juniors?”

“When we got high together? You were like a little blueberry,” Sousuke laughed. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you remember our conversation? Because I do.”

“Remind me.”

“You told me you thought I was a really great friend to Rin,” Haruka began, “and I told you that you were good for her.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And I asked you if she ever told you. Or thanked you.”

“I remember now.”

“Has she? Since then, I mean?”

Sousuke looked anxious then. Nervous, on edge.

“Not in so many words,” she replied. “Do you still think I’m good for her, though?”

“I do. I still think you’re great for her. Too great. And I don’t think she’s great for you,” Haruka said.

“And just what the fuck do you know about us?”

“More than you think.”

“Haru, what are you telling me?”

“What was Rin’s reasoning for taking a leave?” Haruka suddenly asked. Sousuke furrowed her brow.

“Said she needed to work out why she was here. I think the Paris thing hit her hard, and she didn’t want to come to place where she felt she’d hit a wall.”

“So, because of me?”

Sousuke was silent.

“You can’t tell me that you never suspected anything,” Haruka whispered.

“No. I can’t.”

“And you’re sharp.”

“For how long?”

“Nine months.”

“The entire academic year.”

“Yes. She considered leaving you.”

“Fuck you, Haru.”

“If you didn’t know, deep down, then you wouldn’t have invited me here.”

“Just shut up.”

“If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t a replacement for you. Just different.”

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” Sousuke dramatically stood up, threw down a few bills, and gathered her things. “Don’t come to the wedding. In fact, if I see you there, I will personally kick your ass. See you at graduation.”

Haruka was left alone at the table, wondering why she had bothered saying anything, why she had suddenly had a streak of malice—and why Sousuke had bothered hiding the fact that she had known.  

* * *

 

Two nights before graduation, Makoto and Haruka were helping each other pack. For months, Haruka had been asking Makoto what her plans were post-graduation, and Makoto had been repeating the same thing. When I figure it out, you’ll be the first know. Every single time, even when Haruka offered to help. Haruka wasn’t sure why Makoto would bother hiding anything from her, but it had been keeping her anxious. Being separated from Makoto was the last thing she wanted, but at this point, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. And if Makoto didn’t, either, they were stuck. But tonight, as they stuffed clothes and books into their suitcases for the trip home after graduation, Makoto finally came clean.

“I’m going to get my Ph.D in education,” she suddenly said. Haruka kept folding.

“I knew you would eventually. A year? Two? Are you gonna find a job in between?”

“No, I mean, I’m matriculating this summer.”

Haruka froze, her arms full of clothes. She turned over her shoulder to glare at Makoto, who was sitting on the bed, wringing her fingers.

“You applied without _telling_ me?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if I was going to get accepted, and you had a big year and I didn’t want to stress you out…and I was indecisive about whether I wanted to go, even when I did get accepted.”

“Makoto! Are you kidding?”

“I know, I know. I really am sorry.”

Haruka dropped the clothes into the nearest suitcase and sat on the beside Makoto. She was significantly stressed out now, and was wringing her own hands, too. Twisting her hair around.

“Where?”

“San Diego.”

“California?” Another rush of anger came over her, and Haruka stood back up. It was rare for her to get this outwardly angry, but there was usually so little to be actively angry about. “You decided to go to California without me?”

“I…”

“How many decisions have you made without me?”

“Haru. I didn’t mean to, I just…the opportunity was so good I immediately said yes. They’re offering me a stipend.”

“You didn’t even tell me, Makoto. You didn’t even tell me.”

“Haru.” Makoto reached out to grab Haruka’s hand, but she ripped it from her grasp. She couldn’t even see straight.

“I’ve never made a decision without you! Never!”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe…maybe we’re too dependent on each other.”

Haruka stopped and fell silent. Bit her own tongue so hard that it hurt, maybe drew blood.

“I don’t agree.”

“Isn’t that why you were sleeping with Rin for so long?”

The world crashed and burned on her shoulders. Haruka didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know if that’s why,” she finally hissed, “but okay. Fine. Let’s change the subject and talk about Rin.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I figured you knew.”

“…Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Makoto smiled. The tension eased a little bit, and she tapped the spot beside her. Haruka sat down without a word. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Can we talk about California, then?”

“Yeah.”

“I want you to do what’s best for you. I love you so much. I want you to succeed,” Haruka continued, “but I’m really hurt that you didn’t talk about it with me.”

“It was a mistake. It was stupid. I-I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I think…I think part of me thought that if I told you what I had decided already, you wouldn’t be able to make your own unbiased decision.”

“You’re right. But when have I ever wanted to? I value your opinion over my own, every time.”

“I can’t make this decision for you,” Makoto murmured. She grabbed Haruka’s hand and held it to her chest. “But…”

“But?”

“I want you to come to California with me. I can’t imagine not living close to you.”

Haruka couldn’t help it. She started to laugh.

“You didn’t tell me because you wanted me to make my own decision, but now you’re begging me to follow you anyway?”

Makoto started laughing, too.

“I guess I’m not as strong as I thought,” she admitted.

Haruka put her head on Makoto’s shoulder and, without hesitation, told her she would come to California with her.  


	30. make it for you

30

make it for you

Nagisa and Rei decided to stay for graduation, to support Haruka, Makoto, and a few of their other senior friends. The night before, while the seniors were aflutter, trying to contain their excitement, Rei called Haruka and asked her if she’d be willing to do one last sketch. Just of her, as a memento of the last night they had to spend together at this college—Haruka had left such a lasting impact on Rei’s life that she wanted this chance, desperately, to leave a similar impact on her. Of course, Haruka agreed. Rei made her way across campus to Haruka’s dorm, wearing her favorite shorts and t-shirt. The two of them sat in her room with the window cracked open. The only things left unpacked were the bedding, the toiletries, Haruka’s dress for tomorrow, and some stationery. It looked horribly empty, no rugs on the wooden floor, no photos on the white plaster walls, an entire life thrown into suitcases traveling to nowhere yet. Last Rei checked, Haruka still hadn’t decided what to do after graduation, though she could’ve done anything.

“Thanks for letting me come so late,” Rei said, closing the door behind her.

“My door is always open for you.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? Just doing one last sketch?”

“It would be my honor. Why don’t you sit on the floor today. Yeah, like that. Lean against the wall and cross your legs.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” Haruka sat on the bed and began to sketch.

Rei noticed that were only a few sheets left in that giant sketchbook. How many sketches had someone like Haruka Nanase done in the past few years? If Rei didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed one sketch per day. She communicated better through drawing and felt more natural that way. From the beginning, Haruka had astonished Rei; to see someone so determined to make something of her dreams, and to watch her succeed so thrillingly, was like fireworks lighting up the sky. It was so rare to see. She loved something, she did it everyday, she practiced, she showed it to people, they gave her resources, she succeeded. It was the simplest, most basic way to succeed. Haruka didn’t need to go through bureaucracies, or ‘know the right people.’ Her talent spoke for her. Haruka had managed to make a meritocracy out of a society that was, most of the time, anything but. It was incredible. Thinking about it boggled Rei’s mind.

“Have you decided where you’re going after graduation?” Rei asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to San Diego.”

“Wow. California. That’s far,” Rei mused.

“It wasn’t even on my list of choices, really. But Makoto is going to UCSD to get her Ph.D. So I’m going with her.”

“Oh. I never imagined Makoto going all the way to California.”

“She never talks about it, but she’s always wanted to go west. She needs sun and water and beaches. It makes her happy,” Haruka explained. Focus never shifting.

“You do, too. Right?”

“Yeah. But, oddly enough, I think I’m more adaptable. As long as I’m somewhere I can be an artist, I’ll make do.”

“That sounds very like you,” Rei smiled. Haruka smiled back, but kept sketching. “Are you nervous?”

“About graduating?”

“Yeah.”

“I am. But the past few months, and last summer in Paris, helped reassure me a bit.”

“How so?”

“I proved to myself that I can be happy doing what I love. I can succeed. I’m confident now.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. It’s rare to hear you be so decisive.”

“I think I’ve been cornered, really,” Haruka sighed. “I don’t have a choice but to be happy with the decisions I’ve made, because there’s no going back.”

“That makes sense. I can’t relate, really. Not yet. But it makes sense.”

“You still have time to figure things out.”

“I’ve always been very decisive. I’ve known what I wanted since I was a child. I’m going to go to law school, practice for a few years, run for office. I want to get as high as I can so I can finally have the power to make the changes I want. I don’t want to be powerless. I want to find the ugly things and make them beautiful, the way I feel is right,” Rei said.

“It’s good to have a solid plan. I can’t relate to that.”

“And yet, you’ve made it.”

“Yeah. I guess I have.”

“We’re going to miss you. Me and Nagisa—you and Makoto have made our lives so much easier,” Rei said. She felt the tears threatening to spill, so she took a deep breath and forced another smile. She couldn’t stand to get so emotional so quickly.

“We’re going to miss you, too. A lot.”

“You both mean so much to Nagisa. And me, too. But she really loves you a lot. When she didn’t know where to go, you helped her find her footing.”

“I don’t know,” Haruka laughed. “Nagisa’s always been good at finding her own way.”

“She’s good at putting on a tough face, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Very good.”

“I had no idea how much she really liked me until she told me. Before then, I had just assumed she wanted something…casual, you know?”

“She can be hard to read. But she usually doesn’t bother hiding her feelings.”

“No. She doesn’t.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Rei leaned her head back against the wall. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been expecting the question, or that she wasn’t sure how to answer it. Just that the topic set her heart on fire and always made her voice quiver.

“Absolutely,” she replied, voice quiet. “That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to see you.”

“To talk about Nagisa?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’ve had so many experiences with loving someone. You and Makoto have managed to make something beautiful and loving last so long. You’ve been through so much together,” Rei began. “I’m terrified that what I have with Nagisa will fizzle out. Does that make sense? I’m terrified that one day we’ll look at each other and decide we don’t love each other anymore.”

“You’re terrified?”

“I love her so much. She means the entire world to me. And I don’t know how to handle it. I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if we just…stopped.”

“There’s no reason to assume it will ever stop,” Haruka said, voice clear but distant. “And if it does, the reasons will be clear. It won’t be anybody’s fault. It never is. But right now, being scared of the end will only bring it about faster. You need to focus on how you feel in this moment.”

“Feeling like this is terrifying. I’ve never felt anything so strongly.” Rei sniffled. The tears were running, and she desperately wiped them away.

“It’s good to feel strongly,” Haruka murmured. The conversation was starting to stir her. Make her anxious. “It’s good to be overwhelmed with how much you love someone.”

“I don’t know what to do with all these feelings.”

“Acknowledge them. Work to understand them. You don’t have to change them or ‘deal’ with them. Just flow with them.”

“Is that how you do it? With Makoto?”

“I mean…I try.”

“Everything is easier said than done, isn’t it?” Rei smiled. Haruka nodded. Realizing that she still, after all this time and all these experiences, didn’t understand love. How could what she had with Makoto be true love? How could what she’d had with Rin be true love? Two very different ways and meanings of love, she couldn’t believe at that moment that there even was such a thing as ‘true’ love. Who had brought her closer? Makoto? Rin? Neither? Had she ever even experienced love? Even after Rei left, Haruka didn’t sleep. She stayed up, staring at the ceiling, watching the rest of her life with Makoto unfurl.

 

* * *

 

Haruka barely remembered the ceremony itself. It wasn’t exciting or dramatic, only mildly inspiring because how much could be said to a class of graduating college students that hadn’t already been said? The commencement speaker wasn’t a woman Haruka was familiar with, nor a woman Haruka cared to be familiar with, so she spent the entirety of the ceremony daydreaming. She didn’t cry out in excitement when the rest of the class did. She only stood to clap when absolutely necessary. She threw her cap up at the end only because she would have stood out otherwise. She wished she were sitting next to Makoto, but society’s habit of putting people in alphabetic order prevented it. It dragged and dragged until she had gone through imaginary scenario after imaginary scenario, was sweating through her red dress and graduation robe, was exhausted from the heat and emotional energy.

When it was finally over and she met up with Makoto and her family, they were all crying—she could give them little more than a shaky, tired smile. She said thank you to every passing congratulations, and Ren and Ran clinging to her clammy legs was surprisingly refreshing. They all went by the lake to take photographs that would be framed like shrines in the Tachibana household. Nagisa and Rei joined them for photographs, and then together they all went to have lunch at a pizzeria on campus. Haruka could hardly say a word, she was so spent. She could hardly feel excitement for the degree she’d just received. She was thinking only of what it would feel like to be off this campus, probably for the rest of her life. What it would feel like to pursue her dreams so singularly. The future was daunting. She couldn’t bring herself to think for even a moment about the present.

Haruka and Makoto returned to their dorm that evening to retrieve their final things, pack them into a rental car, and head to the train station. Sweating, tired, blushing after a quick and final fuck on this campus, they dragged their suitcases down to the car where Mr. Tachibana was waiting. When everything was solidly packed, Haruka took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry…would you mind if I met you at the train station? I’d like to take a short walk by the lake,” she asked. Her voice trembled a bit. “One last time.”

“Oh? Well, sure. If you need us to come back and pick you up—”

“That’s all right. I can call a lyft, or a cab, or something.”

“Are you sure, Haru?” Makoto asked quietly. She touched Haruka’s arm, brought her lips close to her ear. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“I’d like to be alone, if that’s okay,” Haruka replied.

“Sure. Of course,” Makoto said. “Be safe. Call if you need anything.”

“I will. See you at the train station.”

“See you.”

After a quick kiss goodbye, Haruka said goodbye to Makoto’s parents and Ren and Ran, already falling asleep in the very back of the car. When the car was out of sight, Haruka, who had changed from her uncomfortable dress into Birkenstocks, jean shorts, and a tanktop, made her way down to the lake. The sun was starting to set, and she watched it descend as she climbed up the hill, covered in emeralds. The sky was endless and colorful, changing shades each time she blinked, from orange to pink to red to purple to gray. Stars started to peek up from the kaleidoscope meshwork as a breeze wrapped itself around her, tight, suffocating. It was trying to take her somewhere but she was heavy, not ready to go yet. Her thighs were burning when she reached the top. The entire campus, the entire colorless lake, stretched out at her feet. She felt like the only person in the universe, left alone to imagine what it would be like to drown in the crystalline stillness.

But she wasn’t alone. At the bottom of the hill, knee-deep in the lake water, she could see a silhouette. Black, moving, hand gliding along the water. Haruka started moving down toward the lake and its mysterious visitor. Though, when she searched her mind and heart for the answer, it wasn’t all that mysterious. As she grew closer and closer and the sun fell lower and lower, the silhouette became clearer. From dark to light, black to bright red. She stared out at the horizon and flames engulfed her—Haruka was out of breath when she reached the bank of the lake. She stepped out of her shoes and dipped her toes into the water. It was lukewarm, encouraging, so she kept walking.

Rin turned around, smiling as if she had never left. Her hair was longer, messier. Her eyes were brighter. Her expression left Haruka paralyzed where she stood, water licking at her thighs. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, it didn’t have to be coherent just _something_ , but she found only silence. She couldn’t even say Rin’s name. How long had it been since she’d called her name? It was foreign to her tongue, Rin’s touch would be foreign to her body, the image of her face and the memories of her voice were burrowing out from deep in Haruka’s mind to silence her, paralyze her, bring rainbow tears to her eyes.

“Hey there, stranger,” Rin finally said. She moved forward until she was right there in front of Haruka. Close enough to touch her. But she didn’t dare. “I came to say congratulations.”

Her voice escaped.

“Congratulations?” she echoed.

“You graduated today. That’s a huge accomplishment.”

“…Thanks.”

The silence that followed wasn’t tense. Exchanging words melted the iciness, and they both felt it. Rin took another cautious step forward.

If Rin hadn’t been there to catch her, Haruka would have fallen into the water.

She collapsed into Rin’s arms and squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn’t bear to see anything she just wanted to _feel_ this _feel_ Rin, let herself free fall. Rin’s fingers dug into her back so tightly that it hurt.

“Why did you bother coming back?” Haruka heard herself whisper. Rin laughed. Wasn’t shy, wasn’t worried—she pulled back, looked down into Haruka’s watery eyes, and kissed her. This was where they’d had their first kiss, she mused. This was where this had all begun.

“I wanted to at least let you get through graduation before fucking things up again,” she replied.

“Fucking things up? You never did that.”

“I know that’s a lie, but thank you.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry. I imagined what your face would look like and I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” she murmured. Guilt dripped from her voice, and that was enough for Haruka to forgive her.

“Okay.”

“It was so hard not to come see you. You have no idea.”

“Could you be quiet? For just a little bit?”

They kissed again, harder, longer, putting unspoken words and lies and months’ worth of gone-and-buried love between their lips. Haruka felt Rin’s fingers in her hair and she could have screamed, could have burst into horrible tears right there, could have ripped out those strands of hair and thrown them to the breeze.

“You didn’t have to come back,” she said. Rin was crying already—even as she wiped the tears on Haruka’s cheeks.

“I know. And, really, I shouldn’t have.”

“Then why?”

“Do you remember what I told you over winter break our junior year?” she murmured. She paused, to kiss her again. “I told you that I love you. I told you that I’m yours. Forever.”

“You didn’t mean it…”

“I did. I really fucking did. I feel the same right now as I did back then. I love you so much it fucking hurts, Haru. Not a second went by that I wasn’t sick with how much I love you.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“I had to figure some things out. I had to remind myself why I do what I do,” she said. “Not to get to your level, not to compete with you, not to be better than you—or anybody else. And I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Rin…”

“I’ve been in New York. Freelancing.”

“New York.”

“Things are going great, Haru. I think I finally found myself, found my place.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. I’m so glad.”

“I figured my shit out. And now I’m back.” She held Haruka’s face in her hands, tears still streaming, falling down into the lake, making it just that much bigger. “Come to New York with me.”

_I want you to come to California with me._

“Rin,” Haruka breathed, “you’re not serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“What about Sousuke?”

“She broke up with me.”

“So…”

“No. You’re not second to her. I was going to leave her, but she did it before I got the chance.”

“That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please. I love you so much, Haru. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you,” Rin said. “I know you hate New York, but…we could learn to love it. Together.”

_I can’t imagine not living close to you._

“I…I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue. But I really do love you. If you love me back…say yes. If you don’t, then I’ll never bother you again.”

“Makoto’s going to California.”

“I’m sorry, Haru. But I think this time, you really do have to make the decision.” Rin smiled, surreal, on fire. “Nobody else can make it for you. Make it for _you_.”

_Make it for me_.

Haruka closed her eyes. Cleared her head.

And the one thing left after everything else was gone was how she really felt.

 

* * *

 

It had to be.  


	31. RHMN

31

RHMN

It was one of those nights—Haruka would have to make herself presentable, put in actual effort, practice her smile in the mirror for all the people she was going to be seeing. Not that she wasn’t excited; she enjoyed these parties, whether for birthdays, new exhibits, anniversaries, fundraisers. As long as she just needed to talk about her art, like she always did, she liked them. Not like most social interactions, that left her drained, ready for days in bed, alone with her partner and her sketchbook. She stood from the sofa, where she’d been spread out in sweet summer exhaustion, to finally sift through her closet for a dress to wear. Were there any she hadn’t worn to one of these already? She didn’t want to be wearing a dress that some of the party-goers would recognize—supposedly that was in very bad taste—but she always had trouble keeping track. She walked through the bedroom and into the large walk-in closet, over to her side, and began flipping. That one she had worn for a fundraiser four years ago. This one for a gala a few summers ago. This one for the grand opening way back when—how long was it now, seven, eight years?

“This one, Haru. Definitely this one.”

A slender, porcelain arm wrapped around her waist and squeezed, and the other arm pointed out a long blue gown, strapless, adorned with lace. Haruka grabbed it and looked at it from arm’s length.

“Are you sure? Blue? I always wear blue.”

“Then you should definitely wear blue tonight. It’s your night, after all.”

She felt a pair of lips press to her cheek, and she leaned into them.

“If you say so.”

“Good girl. Do you want me to do your hair?”

“I was just going to leave it.”

“No, no. Let’s do a ponytail today. You always look so sleek in that high ponytail.”

“Okay, let’s do the ponytail.”

Another kiss to her cheek. She walked back into the bedroom to get changed. They had been planning this night for months. More accurately, Haruka had been shown decorations and catering options to approve, but she hadn’t really done the actual planning. Though she would never outwardly show it, she was actually excited. The past ten years had really given her a taste for being recognized for the thing she loved most to do: be an artist. She slipped into the dress and stood in front of the mirror, gazing at herself from different angles.

“Hey, can you come zip me up!” she called into the closet.

“Coming!”

Rin walked from the closet, wearing a dazzling, matching blue pantsuit and high-heeled boots, looking as radiant, as powerful, as incredibly beautiful as she always did. She brought her lips to the back of Haruka’s neck and slowly, slowly, zipped up the dress. Haruka moved her body, ever so slightly, back against Rin’s chest.

“Too fucking gorgeous,” Rin whispered in her ear.

“You’re biased.”

“Oh please, like you don’t know it, you narcissist.”

“You said it yourself. Tonight is my night—not fair for you to call me a narcissist.”

“My apologies, birthday girl. Now sit down and let me do your hair.”

She sat in front of the vanity, makeup done, dress on, while Rin stood behind her and brushed her hair up high. Rin’s hair was cropped short; in the ten years since college, she hadn’t once grown it out again. She found that keeping it short let her neck breathe, and made for a good juxtaposition to her dark, long-haired wife. She tied Haruka’s ponytail, then quickly ran a straightener over her bangs and brushed through them. When her hair was finished, Rin filtered through the necklaces hanging on the mannequin on the vanity, picked out a beautiful string of diamonds, and latched it behind Haruka’s neck.

“You’re going to light up the room, babe.”

“We both will.”

“We always do.”

They kissed, put on their lipstick (both pink, Rin’s much darker), slipped on their wedding bands, and walked down to the car waiting to take them to Haruka’s 32nd birthday party.

They arrived and were received like celebrities at the RHMN Gallery, one of the most prestigious, well-renowned art galleries not only in New York City, but in the country. In the world—they had another location in Paris that was almost equally as successful. (This was the location that Haruka liked to curate most, because it meant she could escape the suffocation New York City still inflicted upon her.) The gallery was already full of patrons, critics, close friends, and celebrities by the time they arrived, arms intertwined. Like goddesses they floated in, an envied couple that had clawed their way through the competitiveness of a mainly male-dominated field to become some of the largest names in the world of fine art. Haruka Nanase, an artist of the highest caliber, whose art sold for the highest prices and sat in some of the most visited exhibits in the world. Her wife, agent, and sponsor, Rin Matsuoka, a successful photographer in her own right, despite her lack of a college degree. They had taken the art world by storm. Just as they had taken each other by storm.

Within moments they were swarmed, surrounded by admirers and friends, here to ogle the art in the exhibit (many of it by Rin and Haruka themselves) and wish Haruka happy birthday. Thirty-two, an exciting year, they all said. So young to be so successful, still so many years ahead of her to solidify her legacy.

“Not that it needs to be solidified anymore. Haru’s name is etched in history,” Rin would say, and kiss Haruka’s cheek. They charmed without even trying now—they’d had years of practice. After a few minutes the swarm died down, and the real party began. Mingling, stimulating conversations, walking through the bright rooms to admire the art. The featured piece for the night was one Haruka hadn’t done recently; it was actually one she had started back in college. Two young girls standing by a lake, one small and seated and facing the viewer, the other tall, standing behind her and staring out at the lake. The title was ‘before love,’ featuring two models that very often appeared in Haruka’s work. Not as often as Rin, or a mysterious former lover known only as ‘scorpio,’ but often enough that they were recognizable.

Especially now that they were here, at the party. They had flown from Boston to be here—Rei Ryugazaki, well-respected prosecutor and social activist running for governor of Massachusetts, along with her campaign manager and fiancée, Nagisa Hazuki. They were honored guests here, to be recognized as muses for Haruka and some of her closest friends.

Haruka found them standing in front of ‘before love,’ and when they saw her approaching, they lit up. They hugged, tightly, kissed each other’s cheeks, let their hearts fill with each other. It had been a few years since they’d seen each other. Rei was busier than she’d ever anticipated.

“I can’t believe you did this, Haru-chan,” Nagisa cried, gesturing toward the sketch. “The very first sketch you did of us.”

“I figured it was time to bring it out of hiding. It deserves to be seen in the light,” Haruka replied. She sipped from her champagne and watched them watch the sketch. There was a rush in seeing people admire her art.

“Happy birthday, Haru. We are so proud of you. Really,” Rei said, as composed, as articulate, as confident and brilliant as ever.

“It means a lot to me that you two are able to be here. Especially during Rei’s campaign.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nagisa said. “Besides, it’s good PR, with all the philanthropy you do. You’re taking us out to breakfast, and lunch, and dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. Rin already made reservations to all our favorite places.”

“Cheers to that.”

“Next time you’ll have to visit the Paris location,” Haruka said. “In my opinion, it’s much better.”

“You just hate New York,” Nagisa laughed.

“So,” Rei interjected. “I don’t mean to pry, but…I know you and Rin have been talking. Have you decided?”

“Word spreads fast,” Haruka said, with a pointed look in Nagisa’s direction.

“Your fault for trusting me with your secrets.”

“Since you know already—yeah. The paperwork is being filed.”

“I can’t believe it,” Nagisa gasped. She looked back up at the sketch. “You and Rin. Raising a kid together.”

“What’s that I hear? People spreading rumors?” Rin sauntered over, one hand in her pocket, the other gripping her glass of champagne.

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true,” Nagisa winked.

“Just don’t let those journalist vultures hear. We don’t want to get everybody excited before it’s a sure thing,” Rin said. Haruka blinked at her.

“It’s…not a sure thing?”

“No, babe, for us, it is. But we should wait until the paperwork agrees.”

They kissed, as if they couldn’t go too long without doing it, and with one last squeeze of her waist, Rin floated off to continue mingling.

“You two really are thriving,” Rei murmured. Haruka smiled, and watched Rin, across the room, laughing with a group of fellow photographers. She wasn’t sure how, after all this time, she still felt butterflies when she looked at her.  

When Rin and Haruka arrived at their penthouse, Rin was a bit drunk, and Haruka was exhausted. Leaning against each other, they made their way to the elevator and up, and they were stripping before they even got to the bedroom. As Rin shed her clothes and rambled on about how much fun she’d had, Haruka noticed a small box sitting on the kitchen counter, with a note attached.

“Rin, did you put this box here before we left?”

“What box?” Rin ran back into the kitchen, naked, to see the box herself. “Looks like a delivery. I keep telling the doorman not to let the delivery guys come up here!”

She went back into the bedroom. Haruka picked up the box first. Opened it. It was a pair of earrings, Swarovski, beautiful and simple. They were shaped like dolphins. Blinking back tears, Haruka opened the note. It was addressed to her.

_Dearest Haru,_

_Happy birthday! I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. I hope you enjoy the earrings. I figured it was about time I get you something to match that bracelet I gave you all those years ago (since I know you still wear it). Give me a call when you get the chance—I would love to catch up. I hope you have the most incredible year, and many, many ahead of you._

_Love forever,_

_Makoto_

She went into the bedroom and tried the earrings on. Rin was already passed out on the bed. The earrings were perfect. Just to make sure, she opened a drawer, looked through it, until she found a little velvet jewelry bag buried in the corner. Inside was a white gold bracelet, adorned with a dolphin charm. She put it on.

Makoto was right—the two matched perfectly.  

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Rin?”

“What’s up, babe?”

“Can you please come here for a second?”

Haruka was calling from the living room. Rin stood up and left her office, where she handled all the paperwork and edited her photographs, and followed Haruka’s voice. Sure enough she was on the sofa, sketchbook on her lap, while the news played for nobody on the television. She was staring, confused, at her right hand, gripping her favorite pencil. Rin sat down on the couch beside her.

“Yeah?”

“Does my wrist look swollen at all to you?”

Haruka placed her hand in Rin’s; Rin closed one eye and squinted, made Haruka giggle, as she examined her wrist.

“Mm, no. It looks fine to me.”

“That’s what I thought,” Haruka sighed, “but it really hurts.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s been getting worse for a few weeks. At first I hardly noticed, but now it’s kind of difficult to sketch the way I usually do. Bending my wrist really hurts.”

“My poor beautiful artist,” Rin said. She gently kissed Haruka’s wrist, and with a single taste she was driving herself crazy. She moved the sketchbook to the coffee table, and moved her lips up Haruka’s outstretched arm.

“I’m serious. It’s worrying me a bit.”

“We can go see the doctor. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She led Haruka to her back on the couch, settled between her hips, and kissed her neck. Haruka closed her eyes and let the familiar pleasure, the familiar tingles, soothe her.

“I think we should see an orthopedic surgeon,” she said, voice gravelly.

“We need a referral for that, I think.”

“That’s a waste of time.”

“That’s how it works, honey.”

As she pushed her tongue down against Haruka’s pale skin, she slid her hand up under her shirt.

“You know who might be willing to help? Working in her own practice now,” Rin murmured.

“No. I know what you’re about to say.”

“She does owe me loads of favors.”

“That sounds like bullshit.”

“There’s no harm in calling.”

Haruka pressed her palms to Rin’s shoulders and pushed her away.

“Rin. No.” Her face was hard and cold.

“If she says no, she says no, and we’ll go the traditional route. But if it’s really bothering you, she’ll know what’s going on.”

Haruka stared. Holding her breath. And, finally, relented.

“Fine. You can call her.”

“Great! Can I please fuck you now?”

“Of course.”


	32. I would promise you the world

32

I would promise you the world

The office was as dull as you would expect for a doctor’s clinic. At first they had been thinking that maybe, because it was the clinic of a successful orthopedic surgeon, it would be spruced up. But since Dr. Yamazaki was still working many weeks per year out of an academic hospital, having recently finished her fellowship at Columbia, it was as basic as an office could get. Haruka and Rin sat, both nervous, both on edge, in the waiting room. They were both silent. Rin was a bit hungover (they had gone out with Rei and Nagisa the night before), and Haruka hadn’t been sleeping well, and was exhausted. Her wrist had only gotten more bothersome.

Finally, they were called back to the examination room. Haruka sat on the observation table while Rin sat in a chair in the corner, and she answered the questions.

Are you sexually active?

Yes.

Do you use protection?

I mean…no.

How many partners have you had in the past year?

One.

The past five years?

One.

Do you smoke?

Yes.

How many packs a day?

About half a pack a day.

Would you consider quitting?

No. Not right now.

Do you drink alcohol?

Yes.

How much per week?

I don’t know. Maybe three glasses of wine a day.

Do you have a history of any chronic medical conditions?

I was diagnosed with…what was it called? Oh. Generalized anxiety disorder. A few years ago.

Any history of medical conditions in your family?

I don’t know. I don’t think so.

Okay. Dr. Yamazaki will be in to see you shortly.

Thanks.

Rin and Haruka were alone in the room. Haruka knew what was coming—she didn’t meet Rin’s eyes. But Rin was glaring at her.

“Half a pack a day? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. I light a lot of candles so you can’t tell.”

“Fucking hell. And three drinks a day?”

“It helps me fall asleep.”

“Haru! Why haven’t you been talking to me about this?”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

Just then, the door opened. And in walked Haruka’s worst nightmare: Sousuke Yamazaki. As tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidating as ever. Haruka hadn’t seen her since college—since the lunch where Sousuke had finally told her off for fucking her girlfriend, ten years ago. Sousuke, too, was thriving. She’d achieved her dream. She was a doctor. She was wearing a long white coat and casual suit underneath, with a stethoscope in her pocket. Appearance-wise, she hadn’t changed at all. She didn’t smile when she walked in.

“Rin. Haru. It’s been a long time.”

Only then did she smile. She reached her hand out—first, to shake Haruka’s hand. Then, to shake Rin’s. She appeared unfazed and stoic and it was terrifying.

“It has been. It’s good to see you,” Rin said. “I have to say, we’re really glad to see how successful you are.”

“The same to you. I read about your gallery in magazines all the time. Congratulations.”

She took a seat and opened Haruka’s file on the room’s computer. She skimmed it, then looked at Haruka.

“Your wrist has been hurting?”

“Yeah. Mostly when I bend it. It’s gotten worse over the past few weeks.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

Haruka reached her hand out.

“Describe the pain for me?” Sousuke said.

“Um…kind of achy. Sometimes it tingles.”

“Any numbness?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“How about when I do this?” Sousuke tapped a specific part of her wrist, and Haruka felt a jolt of pain.

“Ow. That hurts.”

“Okay.” She let go of Haruka’s hand. “We can do some more tests to be sure, but I’m almost certain that you have carpal tunnel syndrome.”

“Carpal…what?”

“It’s not uncommon, especially in individuals who use their hands and wrists in repetitive motions. Like pianists, or artists, like yourself. When you sketch, you move your wrist in a specific way that puts pressure on the median nerve. That nerve is what’s causing your symptoms.”

“Oh.”

“Also doesn’t help that you smoke and drink so much,” Sousuke sighed. “Those risk factors increase the likelihood for a lot of health conditions.”

“I wouldn’t bother with her. She won’t even talk to me about it,” Rin interjected. Sousuke looked at her, sighed again, and turned back to Haruka.

“I think I want to start you off on some medication and see if that helps. We’ll start with non-steroidal anti-inflammatories, and then graduate to steroids if that doesn’t do anything. If the medication doesn’t work at all within a few months, we can consider surgery. Sound good?”  

 

* * *

 

A few months later, Haruka was desperate. The medications had only helped minimally, and she was now at the point that she could hardly sketch at all. It was driving her mad, not being able to do the one thing that gave her sanity—not even Rin could do that. Rin was her comfort, her rock, but she enabled Haruka’s emotional instability more than anything. She called Sousuke again and told her she wanted to consider surgery, now that the medications hadn’t worked. Rin and Haruka went back in, and Sousuke discussed the surgery with them.

“What I’ll be doing is called a carpal tunnel release. It’s a pretty simple procedure. I’ll go into your wrist and cut the ligament in the roof of the tunnel to relieve the pressure on your median nerve. We can either do it open or endoscopic. Open means cutting, endoscopic means tunneling. That’s the simplest way I can describe it,” she explained. Her personality slipped away when she spoke like this—a transformation from Sousuke to Dr. Yamazaki. “There will be some swelling and pain after the surgery, but that should only last a few months maximum. You’ll probably have full recovery within two to three months after the procedure.”

“What are the risks?” Rin asked—always more proactive than Haruka.

“Right…as with any surgery, there are some risks, but this is a standard and simple procedure, so they’re minimal. Bleeding, nerve damage, infection. Those are the big ones.” She smiled again, back to Sousuke. “I’ve done this operation hundreds of times. I’ve very rarely seen any complications.”

“Sou.” Rin took a deep breath. Haruka turned away—Rin never could help herself, not when she was feeling something, anything, even a hint of emotion. “I know we ended on rough terms. I know I—we—hurt you, and that was unfair. But I can’t express how thankful we are now.”

“It’s fine, Rin.”

“You’re going out of your way to help us. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just pay your bills so I can pay mine.” She stood, irritated now, and grabbed her clipboard. “You can schedule the surgery at the front desk.”

And then she left. Because she wanted to be around Rin and Haruka for as little time as possible.

“Really, Rin? You had to bring that up?”

“I needed to tell her.”

“She obviously didn’t want to hear it.”

They didn’t want to fight, so they both fell silent. And walked to the front desk and scheduled her surgery for the next week.    

 

* * *

 

Haruka dreamt about Makoto again. She tossed, turned, saw Makoto’s face in her mind and heard her voice so crystal clear in her head that it pulled her from sleep. She was sweating, her heart was racing, she was suddenly wide awake after less than an hour being in bed.

It had been happening for months, and she couldn’t stand it anymore. She wasn’t getting sleep, she felt as if the past she had struggled to push away was crawling up from the depths of hell to grab her ankles and pull her down. Each day it got worse, as was evident in the growing darkness of her artwork—critics were fascinated in analyzing why her artwork had gotten so much more intense since her break into the art world. She often times couldn’t explain it herself, but stare into her heart, and it would be obvious. Things had only gotten worse since seeing Sousuke again. And in three days, she would be carving up Haruka’s wrist to heal her.

Rin was fast asleep, her back to Haruka. She was a deep sleeper; Haruka didn’t have to be careful when she got out of bed, put on her silk robe, and went into the kitchen. For a few moments, she stood by the window, staring down at the living city below. Lights, people, flashes, dirty, dirty, _dirty_. Even ten years wouldn’t help her love New York City more. She cracked one of the windows open and lit a cigarette. They calmed her down, made her focus on her breaths instead of whatever fucked up shit was in her head. When she finished that cigarette, she lit another one. When she was finished that one, she lit a third one. And, since Rin knew anyway, she didn’t bother hiding it. She walked into the kitchen, cigarette hanging from her lips, and reached into the wine cabinet for whatever bottle was closest. She uncorked it, took the cigarette out of her mouth, and started drinking straight from the bottle.

By the time Rin realized Haruka wasn’t in bed, she was a bottle and a half in, sobbing as she squatted on the kitchen floor, putting out her tenth cigarette on the tile floor. She was drunk, she was really drunk, she was going to throw up, she needed to have another cigarette and forget all the feelings dredged up by Sousuke’s stupid, beautiful face.

“Haru! Babe, what is going on?”

“I can’t do it, I dream of her every fucking night.”

“Oh my god. You’re drunk.”

Rin ripped the bottle from Haruka’s hand, despite Haruka’s protests, and squatted down beside her. She took the cigarettes, too. Haruka tried to grab them, but Rin threw them across the room and pulled Haruka in to her chest—they collapsed together onto the kitchen floor. Rin was confused and terrified; she hadn’t seen Haruka like this, not since the first few years after college.

“You haven’t been taking your meds,” she breathed.

“Nothing helps!” Haruka gasped through her cries. “I still see her every single night, the medication doesn’t help…”

“What are you saying? Haru, please, talk to me.”

“I want more wine.”

“Shh, no more wine, my love. No more wine. You don’t want to throw up, do you?”

“No.”

“Then no wine, okay? Why don’t we get you to the couch. Come on, love.”

She managed to drag Haruka, stumbling, still sobbing, over to the couch. She curled up against Rin’s chest and clung to her.

“I’m such a bad person, such a bad, bad person,” Haruka sniffled.

“No you’re not. You’re the best person I know.”

“You have to say that, you married me.”

“But I mean it.”

“We broke their hearts.”

“It was so long ago, Haru.”

“It doesn’t matter…”

Rin’s heart was breaking. It had been like this when they’d first started; Haruka had been ridden with guilt, had nightmares about Makoto every night. She wasn’t sure why they were resurfacing now. Or, worse, if they had been going on for a while, and Haruka just hadn’t said anything about it. That scared Rin even more.

“I saw the way Sousuke looked at you.” She had cried so much that she was exhausted. Barely coherent. Getting lost in the feeling of Rin stroking her back, just the way she liked. “We broke her heart so badly.”

“We made mistakes. We hurt people. But this is where we’re meant to be.”

“Makoto is all alone in California…”

“Nonsense, Makoto has her own family now.”

“I’m so twisted, Rin, I can’t take it…”

“You’re not twisted, Haru.”

“How can I ever be a mother? When I’m like this?”

“How about we go to bed and talk about this tomorrow? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. I would promise you the world.”

“You love me?”

“So much, Haru. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. It keeps me from really regretting.”

“Good.”

“Not from feeling guilty, though.”

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“I love you, Rin. I promise I do.”

“I know, my love. I know.”   

She dragged Haruka to bed and covered her up. She spooned her for a bit, kissing the back of her neck, stroking her hair. She tried to stay up until she was certain that Haruka was asleep, but she dozed off.

And as soon as she had, Haruka got back out of bed to finish the bottle of wine, open another one, retrieve her cigarettes, and drink until she passed out on the kitchen floor.


	33. how does god decide which sins we pay for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks everyone for sticking with me to the end! 
> 
> I know this story can be frustrating to read because it involves beloved characters doing really shitty things, but I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and explore deeply flawed people whose mistakes have far-reaching consequences. I tend to romanticize all of my characters, and I wanted to step away from that a bit. 
> 
> Rin is one of my all-time favorites, but even as I watched Free, I couldn't help but notice the ways he was toxic, emotionally manipulative, and narcissistic (which I've also explored in another story). He really messed with Haru throughout the show, and Haru was never great at being decisive or empathetic. He was too often involved in his own world and his own problems--pretty much the opposite of Makoto. I wanted to dig deeper into the dynamics of Rin and Haru's relationship, and this is the result. 
> 
> Anyway, rant over. I hope you enjoy (or at least find closure in) this final chapter!
> 
> xoxo

33

how does god decide which sins we pay for?

Rin was starting to get impatient, bouncing her leg up and down and flipping through the pages of the magazine without even reading a single word. It hadn’t even been long. The surgery had taken ten minutes, tops—maybe less with someone skilled like Sousuke. Surely the surgery itself was over. But Sousuke had explained it all to her: once the operation is complete, we’ll monitor her for a bit, and then you can take her home. It hadn’t even been an hour yet, but Rin was ready to lose her mind. Why hadn’t the stupid steroids just worked? Why did they have to go through all this trouble, opening up old wounds and ripping out the stitches in broken hearts just for some nerve pain. It all seemed like a cruel joke. Rin closed her eyes, took a deep breath in a half-assed attempt to calm down. There was no calming down.

Only a few minutes later she heard the door to the lobby open. She turned to see Sousuke, in her white coat and teal scrubs, walking toward her. Haruka was trailing behind, looking dazed and scatterbrained, rubbing her bandaged hand. Rin stood up and met them halfway.

“So?”

“Everything went fine. You can take her home.”

Rin stepped forward and put her hands on Haruka’s cheeks. Haruka stared at her, as if unable to recognize her face.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”

“Rin?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Hi.”

Rin pulled her in and cradled her head. Sousuke stuck her hands in her pockets and let her gaze fall.

“She’ll be a little out of it for a while. She’s still a bit doped up.”

“I thought you didn’t put her to sleep.”

“We didn’t. But being awake for a surgery, no matter how small, can be scary. We just gave her some meds to calm her down. It should wear off in a few hours.”

“Okay…”

Sousuke finally managed a smile. Rin stared blankly at her.

“She’ll be just fine. Here are her medications—I wrote all the instructions for you inside.”  

Rin smiled back and held Haruka more tightly as she took the bag of medications.

“Thank you, Sousuke. I mean it.”

“Of course.”

“I only came to you because you’re still the one person I trust more than anyone.”

Sousuke let out a deep, cleansing breath, and gave the saddest smile Rin had ever seen.

“It was good to see you, Rin. We’ll check on her in a few days. If you have any other questions, give me a call.”

And without another word, without a goodbye, without the _something_ Rin had been hoping for and expecting, Sousuke turned and walked away. Because she had shit to do.

 

* * *

 

Almost as soon as Rin got her into the car, Haruka was asleep, head against the window. As she drove, one hand on the steering wheel and the other brushing Haruka’s cheek, Rin’s mind kept flashing back to Sousuke. How tall and successful she was, all the dreams she’d accomplished, and still there had been such deep agony in her eyes when she looked at Rin. As if nothing had changed at all in the past ten years. Everything was the same, except Rin had some awards and Sousuke had a degree and they both had reputations. Rin kept thinking back to when they were younger, taking over that college campus and breaking each other’s hearts. It was like yesterday. She and Haruka sneaking behind their backs to kiss in the woods and on the roof and in any shadow they could find, while Sousuke and Makoto crumbled.

_Had they put themselves back together?_

Rin was convinced that Sousuke hadn’t. Haruka was probably right about time not mattering.

She helped Haruka change into her pajamas and get in bed, and then Rin got changed and burrowed under the covers beside her. She was so fast asleep, more asleep than Rin had seen her in years. Breathing in and out, long and deep. Rin stroked her hair softly, not because it would help Haruka sleep (as it often did), but because it helped calm her down. Feeling Haruka’s hair, scalp, against her palm, reminded her what home felt like. She kissed Haruka’s cheek and, burying her face into the crook of Haruka’s neck, began to cry. Because she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be a mother, either.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Rin was cooking dinner and Haruka was curled up on the couch, in more pain than she would have liked, staring out the window. She’d lost her appetite.

“And what would you prefer, my darling?” Rin called from the kitchen. “Mackerel, mackerel, or mackerel?”

“Mackerel sounds fine.”

She glanced at the kitchen. Rin had never quite fit in there, no matter how many times she’d cooked. It was still a little out of place. Despite the ache in her hand, the drowsiness, the reeling from seeing Sousuke so close and so intimidating, Haruka was content. Rin turned over her shoulder with a sweet, _sweet_ smile.

“What?”

“Your butt looks good.”

Rin blew her a kiss. Overpowered, Haruka fell to her side on the couch. If she could watch Rin cooking dinner for her just like that, every day for the rest of her life, she would be oh-so happy.

“Rin.”

“Yes, my heart of hearts?”

“Will you sing to me?”

“Sing to you? The last time I tried singing to you, you hit me.”

“Fine, don’t sing to me then.”

“Give me an intro.”

Haruka thought for a moment. Closed her eyes. Cleared her head.

“And when the night falls…”

Rin whirled around, using her spoon as a microphone.

“Loneliness calls.” She started to dance wildly, splashing tomato sauce everywhere. “I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the _heat_ with somebody!”

Her voice cracked, but Haruka heard bells anyway. She moved toward Haruka, shaking her hips, whipping her hair.

“Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody. With some-body who loves me.”

She held her hand out. Haruka grabbed it with her good left hand, and let herself get pulled up. Rin put her hand on Haruka’s hip, pulled her close and they began to move together.

“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the _heat_ with somebody!”

She sang loudly, but pressed her forehead to Haruka’s to steal her smile—

“Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody. With some-body who loves me.”

They were in college again. Twirling around dorm rooms that were too small. Singing too loudly. Totally and utterly obsessed with each other. Rin held her arm up; Haruka sluggishly twirled beneath it, stumbled, fell right back against Rin’s chest. They laughed and sang out-of-tune, to drown out the sounds of the hearts they were breaking.

“I love you, Rin.”

“I love you, too, Haru.”

“So when the night falls…”

“My lonely heart calls.”

It was moments like this that Haruka, for just a few minutes, forgot everything else.

 

* * *

 

Rin was sitting at her desk, working through some paperwork, about three days after the surgery. It was around midnight—Haruka had gone to bed a few hours ago. These were the hours, dark, when Rin could see her photographs most clearly. She knew Haruka was the opposite. The earliest hours of the mornings were when she found her clarity.

That was why she was so surprised when Haruka walked into the room, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child. She had undone the bandages on her hand.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“Does this look infected to you?”

She held out her hand. The small incision in her wrist was bright red, way redder than it had been the last time Rin had helped her change the bandages.

“Ooh, that looks nasty. This hurt?” She pressed gently on the incision. Haruka instantly sucked in a sharp breath and withdrew her hand. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Should we call Sousuke tomorrow?”

Rin bit down on her lip and thought about it.

“No, I’m gonna call her right now.”

“Okay.”

Clearly in pain, Haruka sat down on the armchair in the corner of the office. Rin didn’t even hesitate when she pulled out her phone and dialed Sousuke’s number. She answered after barely two rings.

“Dr. Yamazaki.”

“Sou, it’s me.”

“Oh, Rin. Sorry. I’m on call, I thought you were—”

“Is this a bad time?”

“It’s fine. What’s up?”

“Haru’s wrist is super red—it wasn’t red this morning when we changed her bandages. And she says it hurts like hell. Is that normal?”

“Hmm. No. Well, I mean, yes. Infection is always a risk with surgery. It just doesn’t happen often with endoscopic surgeries. It’s one of the reasons we like them better than open surgeries.”

“So it’s infected?” She looked over at Haruka, and Haruka widened her eyes with concern.

“Most likely. Is there any pus?”

“No. Just red.”

“Okay, that’s good. I’ll call in some antibiotics to your nearest 24-hour pharmacy. You should go pick them up in an hour and start immediately.”

“Okay…should we do anything else?”

“Make sure the wound is clean. And if it doesn’t start getting better in a few days, bring her into the office, all right?”

“A-all right.”

“Don’t worry. Just make sure she stays on the antibiotics.” Her voice softened.

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

“I’ll call the pharmacy now.”

“Thank you.”

“Night, Rin.”

“Night.”

* * *

 

_How does god decide which sins we pay for, and which sins are okay?_

 

* * *

 

Dizzy. Chills.

A fever?

Fuck, it hurts so bad.

Where’s Rin?

Can you just get me a glass of water, Rin?

I feel like my heart is racing.

Can’t see straight, head _pounding_.

* * *

 

_…Makoto…?_

 

* * *

 

“Babe, can you come in here a second? I want you to take a look at this photograph.”

No response. Annoyed, Rin stood from her desk and stormed into the living room. Haruka was just sitting on the couch, staring out the window. Totally ignoring her.

“Haru. Can you _please_ come in here? How many times do I have to say it?”

“Hmm?” Slowly, Haruka turned to look at Rin. Confused, as if she hadn’t quite heard her and had just noticed her come into the room. “Sorry, what?”

“I need you to look at this photograph.”

“Photograph?”

“Yes, Haru. Photograph. You know, my life’s work.”

Haruka took a deep breath and put a hand to her chest, as if she was in pain. Rin’s anger melted away in a single instant. She suddenly noticed how pale Haruka looked—no, not pale. She looked almost yellow. And drowsy, like she was half-asleep.

“Haru? What’s the matter?”

She rushed to the sofa. Knelt beside it. Pressed her hand to Haruka’s forehead.

_Burning hot_.

“My heart,” she said, and stopped. Rin checked her heartbeat with her ear.

_Way, way too fast_.

“Hey, Haru. Look at me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

She put her hands on Haruka’s yellow, burning cheeks, and tried to look into her eyes, but they were lost and vacant and empty.

“What’s my name, Haruka?”

Haruka smiled.

“Makoto. It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

She closed her eyes and sighed.

Rin pulled her into her chest and called Sousuke.

 

* * *

 

Sousuke had hoped on sleeping in. But at 7am, her phone began to ring. She turned over in bed and groggily, grumpily, answered.

“Hello?”

“Sou—”

“Rin?”

“I know it’s early, and I know it’s your day off, but I think something’s wrong and I—”

“Hey. Slow down. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Rin sounded panicked. Sousuke was suddenly wide awake.

“Haru is really pale—like, yellow, and she has a burning fever.”

“She’s yellow? How’s her wrist?”

“I-I don’t know, it was fine last night. She’s been taking the antibiotics and everything. Her heart’s racing, too.”

_Shit._

“Put her on the phone.”

“I…I don’t know, she’s really out of it.”

“Out of it? How?”

“I asked her what my name is and she called me Makoto.”

_Fuck. Fuck._

_This can’t be happening._

Sousuke got out of bed and started to put on her jeans, still on the phone.

“Rin. I need you to stay calm for me, okay? Can you promise me that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I need you to stay calm and call an ambulance.”

“Sou, what the fuck is going on? What’s wrong with her?”

“You have to call an ambulance right now—I think she’s in sepsis. Aii is working the emergency room. I’ll call her and tell her you’re coming, and then I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“S-sepsis? What does that mean?!”

“Rin, I _promise_ I’ll explain at the hospital, but you have to call the ambulance _right fucking now_. And stay calm. Haru needs you.”

“O-okay, okay.”

Sousuke hung up before Rin had the chance. And, half-dressed, she threw her phone across the room as hard as she could.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

 

* * *

 

The lights are so bright.

Full of different colors.

Makoto—you’re beautiful and it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.

I know you’ve been following my art.

Why did it take you this long to come see it in person?

 

* * *

 

“Stay with me, Haru, please.”

Rin gripped her hand so tight she was worried she would snap it. Haruka wasn’t even responding at all to her anymore. They had her on oxygen in the back of the ambulance, and were pumping fluids in through an IV. Her eyelids were drooping, half-open, heavy. Rin thought she was going to lose her mind, and she didn’t know what to do besides cry and hold Haruka’s hand.

 

* * *

 

Aiichiro was ready for Sousuke. She was grim.

“How is she?”

“Stabilized now—but when she got in she was psychotic and really tachycardic.”

“Respiratory rate?”

“Above normal, not severely so.”

“Blood pressure?”

“She’s not in shock, Sou.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Hey.” She touched Sousuke’s arm and smiled. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I do this surgery every fucking day.”

“It’s not on you. Sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

“She in the ICU?”

“Yeah. Rin’s up there, too.”   

* * *

 

Black. All black.

 

* * *

 

Haruka was sedated and stabilized. Getting pumped with antibiotics for the infection that was spreading through her body, trying to take out one organ at a time.  

Sousuke ran into the room, and Rin, a terrified, sobbing mess, fell into her arms.

 

* * *

 

More bright lights.

Beautiful.

 

* * *

 

“How did this happen?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you _don’t know_?”

“The risk is just so low.”

“You mean she just got unlucky.”

“Well—”

“Really, really fucking unlucky.”

 

* * *

 

They sat on the stupid, uncomfortable seats by Haruka’s bed, Rin watching Haruka, gripping her hand, while Sousuke watched Rin.

One day soon, she thought, Rin was going to hate her for this, because Rin didn’t know how to organize grief.

Even though, if anything, Sousuke had taken better care of Haruka Nanase than any of her other patients.

 

* * *

 

Stable.

Sedated.

Too many lovers.

 

* * *

 

Everybody’s rushing in all of a sudden, telling them they have to leave, the monitor is beeping so loud—

“Sousuke?”

“Her blood pressure dropped.”

 

* * *

 

_Shock_.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you said we caught it early.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how early we catch it.”

 

* * *

 

Lying on the cold, hard ground, blinded.

 

* * *

 

“Let me back in there!”

Struggling, as Sousuke drags her out of the room. Nurses and doctors whoever the fuck else gathering like a swarm of flies around Haruka’s hospital bed.

“You have to let them do their job, Rin.”

“She needs me! She needs me inside with her!”

 

* * *

 

Not even black anymore.

Just nothing.

 

* * *

 

“We should call Makoto.”

 

* * *

 

She flew in from San Diego, and was silent and somber the entire trip. It had been three years since she’d seen Haruka. This wasn’t how she wanted to see her again. She held back the tears, as strong as a dam, until she saw Rin and Sousuke. Sousuke tall and brooding and her face darkened. Rin pale, exhausted, eyes red and puffy from crying and still oozing out tears. As she saw them, standing like figures of a portrait in front of the building, dressed in black, they received her with shaky hugs and blubbering words.

“Don’t explain now,” Makoto heard herself say. “Just cry.”

 

* * *

 

Nagisa and Rei flew in, too. Both beside themselves.

 

* * *

 

The service was a blur.

All of them blocked it out.

Rin wept the entire time.

She fit the part well.

 

* * *

 

After the service, as everybody cleared out of the gray, littered graveyard, Makoto and Sousuke and Rin stayed. Rin knelt in front of the grave, letting her knees grow brown and green from the grass and the mud. Sousuke and Makoto came to stand beside her, one on either side, like knights. Rin had dried and hollowed out. She was tinkering with the golden ring on her finger. She looked up at Makoto—always the best at comfort, consolation, harmony, the best at instilling hope when there was no more hope to be instilled. The last person that Haruka had been thinking of.

She said nothing.

 

* * *

 

And then it was all over.

Makoto flew back to San Diego alone.

Sousuke went back to the hospital alone.

Rin, alone, finally alone, went home.


End file.
